#we all knew it was impossible that he was homophobic
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Here are some great bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of February. We really hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!
1) A Little Bit Of You | Teen & Up | 2,301 words
Louis is a cute omega who loves autumn and baking cupcakes. However, when he goes to the supermarket to get the last ingredient for his recipe, strawberry jam, he meets Harry, a grumpy alpha who is unwilling to hand over the last jar.
2) I'm Gonna Love You Forever And Ever | Mature | 3,059 words
Louis is independent, he is a free omega, except when he is with his alpha, then he just wants to be held and taken care of.
3) Can't Get My Fill, So I'll Take Yours | Explicit | 2,558 words
Harry's grip remains tight despite Louis’s scrabbling attempts to get him to release his oversensitive, twitching dick. Cum drips between their fingers, making it slick, and impossible to dislodge Harry, who has pinned Louis’ right hand to the pillow.
When he can no longer fight, Louis collapses back against the mattress, hand dropping to his side in defeat. He’s still hard from the constant stimulation, but he’s so sensitive. Once he stops fighting, Harry slows his pace, guiding Louis' limp, free hand up until he can pin his wrists to the pillow with one hand.
It’s so much, and he forces his eyes open, looking down to see drops of cum dripping out of his cock, forced out of him by Harry’s unforgiving dick and hand.
“Harry, I can’t take it, it’s too much.”
“You can take it, and I’m gonna fuck you until I feel like stopping.”
Louis moans, going limp again rather than resisting this time.
“Good boy. Letting me fuck you like a toy for my own pleasure while I see how many times I can make you cum before you pass out.
4) Started Off With Some Birthday Sex | Explicit | 3,669 words
When Harry gets woken up at the exact moment he turns thirty, Louis makes sure to start off his birthday with a bang.
5) The Prints Of Your Hands Are Still On My Canvas | Not Rated | 4,563 words
Harry and Louis broke up not long ago. Everything was fine until then, problems started with Louis’ heat just around the corner, an important presentation that he could not miss, and a very visible (or more like invisible) alpha that could help him go through his heat.
And then Harry shows up. (Again.)
6) Be Brave With Me | Mature | 4,834 words
Harry is out as gay and has been out for a while, and his best friend Louis has always supported him. The green-eyed man knew that Louis was closeted and was scared to come out, of course, Louis doesn't know that Harry knows who he truly wants to be. It's the middle of June and Harry convinces Louis to go to a pride parade, what happens when Louis and Harry get separated and Louis find himself surrounded by homophobic protesters?
7) Home (You'll Never Feel Like You're Alone I'll Make This Feel Like Home) | Explicit | 4,937 words
Louis has been busy all of February and so has Harry. Harry's teaching not just his own, but also his colleague's year one class after her fall. It's been two weeks and the school is yet to find a substitute teacher for her class. Harry's worked to the bone, stressed out of his mind, and on top of it all Louis was also barely home. The only respite for Harry is winter half-term starting Friday February 14th 2025. And of course Louis coming home early to surprise Harry with dinner and a bath.
8) Everywhere, Everything | Explicit | 6,924 words
"Uhm- so I was wondering if maybe…maybe you could braid my hair?”
9) Your Love Was Handmade (For Somebody Like Me) | Explicit | 12,608 words
Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.
Harry looked up from his phone when he heard the clicking of heels stop at the table. He smiled kindly at the hostess and then his eyes travelled to the man behind her. His smile faltered at the sight of Louis in front of him.
“Yeah, not gonna happen,” Harry said and started to get out of the booth.
“Harry, please. Don’t go,” Louis pleaded and stood so Harry couldn’t get out.
“I’m not going to be made a fool again, Louis. You had your fun, now let’s forget it ever happened.”
10) The Unsuccessful Promise | Teen & Up | 15,204 words
At the end of the previous school year, Louis swore to everyone that he would return in the fall as an alpha. He made this promise especially to his arch-nemesis Harry Styles, who has already presented as an alpha himself. Unfortunately over summer break, the worst thing possible happens: Louis presents as an omega. Now school is back in session and he has to return and face the consequences of pre-determining his status.
Featuring Liam and Zayn as Louis' doting and exasperated parents.
11) The Royalty’s Game | General Audiences | 19,390 words
“There is no ritual other than the King Harry Styles having a Family line.”
“I promised my dead wife to love her until I stop breathing.” Harry spit angrily.
“This is the only way to stop the Night storm.” The Avatar of Khonsu said worriedly.
12) Gemini Rising | Explicit | 23,389 words
Louis might as well give it a shot.
Maybe - just maybe - if he starts crossing boundaries in the same reckless way Harry does, that lunatic will get the message.
So he starts invading Harry's space any way he can think of.
He bites on his toast while Harry is speaking, he tears his morning tea out of his hold and he only hands him back the mug when it's empty, he steals half of his boxer briefs, he walks into the bathroom while Harry is peeing, he even uses his toothbrush right in front of him.
When Harry's phone buzzes, Louis dives his hand into his pocket and he reads his texts out loud.
When Harry's sleeping, Louis shoves his door open and asks him if he wants a snack.
Louis is really trying.
Like, really, really trying.
Too bad it's not working.
13) Drop And Draws - What A Feeling | Mature | 50,020 words
Ever since he presented as an Alpha, Harry can't stop drawing the same person over again.
Louis, since long before he presented as an Omega, has always had behavioural problems...
When Niall sees one of Harry's drawings, it becomes clear that these two must meet, and quickly.
Everything should be easy, shouldn't it?
Except, perhaps, Louis is on the other side of the Atlantic, firmly attached to Ricky…
Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.
You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.
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🔞 Illusion (Woosan) 🔞
Synopsis: As a joke San’s friends set him up with an escort. Except he falls for the beautiful man he can never have
WC: 3700
Tags: Rich Boy San, Escort Wooyoung, Public Hand Jobs, Anal Sex, Unprotected Sex, Top San, Bottom Wooyoung, Brief Homophobic Language, Light Bondage, Polite Suggestion of Sommophilia
A/N: This is the escort fic of which I spoke. It wasn’t one of the better performers. Let’s see what y’all think. Bonus Content can be found here
Wooyoung rested his head on the doorframe as he watched San leave. They were both getting tired of this. Forget tired. Exhausted. Wooyoung knew he would always be San’s dirty little secret. If San expected to keep the life he knew, he had to pretend Wooyoung didn’t exist. His family had only just accepted that he was gay. Now they were on the hunt for a “suitable husband”, as San called it, for him. Wooyoung scoffed as he closed the door. It was the 21st century. San should’ve been able to pick who he wanted to be with. The Chois didn’t see it that way. They were old money- very, very old money and dragged all the traditions that came along with it. Then Wooyoung’s phone dinged in his pocket.
I miss you already, baby. Check your nightstand. 💕
Wooyoung didn’t remember anything being on his nightstand when they left the bedroom. Yet there was a carefully wrapped box sitting there waiting for him. Wooyoung opened it and pulled out a watch. It was a limited edition Rolex. Wooyoung knew they were almost impossible to get. Of course, this was Choi San, not some random person off the street. There was an inscription on the back.
Love you until the end of time - Your Sannie.
Wooyoung quickly texted him back.
WTF? I don’t believe you!
San: I love you too, baby :)
Wooyoung: This is too much & you know it.
San: NOTHING is too much for you. You know that.
Wooyoung furiously wiped the tears out of his eyes. The watch was beautiful and he wouldn’t be lying when he said one of his clients bought it for him. Except that San wasn’t a client anymore. He was the love of Wooyoung’s goddamn life.
When can you come back?
Wooyoung had given up on sounding desperate.
I can sneak away tomorrow night. Take you to dinner?
Wooyoung almost dropped his phone. They weren’t supposed to go out. They could risk being seen and then San’s parents would freak. Even if they didn’t find out that Wooyoung was an escort, he wasn’t someone they’d already vetted.
Dinner?
San: It’s our 6 month anniversary. I want to take you out. Then maybe we’ll make love for hours when we get back, but I expect you to be wearing my gift.
Wooyoung: Make love? Who are you & what have you done with San? LOL
San: I might be a lil stoned.
San had confessed to getting high when he got back from seeing Wooyoung. He claimed it made the transition back to who he was supposed to be easier. Wooyoung had chastised him, but it hadn’t done much. Wooyoung knew would make his drinks a little stronger after San left. It was completely unhealthy, but neither of them had anyone they could confide in.
Wooyoung: Go to sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow night.
San: I love you so much, baby.
Wooyoung: I love you too.
San sent a long string of hearts and kissy face emojis. Wooyoung returned with a heart and a kiss. He carefully put the watch in the box and back on his nightstand. The sheets were still a mess from earlier. Wooyoung had started insisting they put a towel down so he didn’t have to change them every time. He knew he should shower, but he didn’t feel like it. He simply dropped his robe on the floor and crawled into bed naked. Wooyoung had ridden San hard earlier, so the pillows smelled like San’s hair. He buried his face in one and let the aroma seep into his nostrils. It was more than just his shampoo and cologne. It was him. Why did this have to be so fucking complicated? Why was he still playing by their rules? Wooyoung would’ve told his parents to fuck off a long time ago. Of course, San genuinely loved his parents. Wooyoung didn’t. They’d kicked him out of the house when he came out and he’d made his own way in the world since.
Wooyoung’s good looks were how he got picked up by a pimp when he was 17. He lied about his age and no one bothered to check (more likely didn’t care). He slowly saved up enough to buy his way out and try his luck on his own. A few coy smiles and well placed compliments got him in the door with a much higher class clientele. Now he was 25 with an enviable list of clients and a 5 figure price tag for one “date”. Several of San’s friends had hired him for San’s birthday to pretend to be a blind date. The joke ended up on them because not only did the date go extremely well, San became one of Wooyoung’s clients.
Feelings didn’t get involved until they’d been seeing each other twice a week for almost a month. Wooyoung had stopped charging him after only a few times when it became obvious they both enjoyed the sex as more than just escort and client. San was the first one to confess. They were sweaty and half asleep, both on their 3rd or 4th orgasm of the night when San let slip “I love you”. Wooyoung had stretched and rolled on top of San, telling him that he loved him back. Somehow they’d worked up the energy to have sex again and fell asleep with San still inside Wooyoung.
Wooyoung hugged the pillow and sighed.
“Maybe someday,”
The next night Wooyoung was fixing his tie and about to put on his watch when he heard a key in the door. He’d given San a key to save them both the annoyance of having to buzz him up every time.
“And what if I’m not ready?” Wooyoung called from the bedroom.
“Then I guess I’d just have to take you before we left,” San replied. He was wearing the same dark gray suit and sapphire blue tie he’d worn on the night they met.
“If I didn’t already have all my clothes on, then I’d most definitely take you up on that,” Wooyoung kissed him.
“Haven’t put my present on yet?” San noticed the watch in Wooyoung’s hand.
“Maybe I was going to let you put it on me,” he held out his arm and San slid the watch on his wrist.
“Perfect fit,” he grinned.
“Impressive,” Wooyoung smiled back
“I remembered you have delicate wrists,” San took Wooyoung’s hands and wrapped them around his waist. He was bigger than Wooyoung and had initially been hesitant to go hard in bed, but Wooyoung had proved he was more than able to handle him.
“Weren’t you going to take me out?” he asked.
“I am. I might just be skipping ahead to what we’ll be doing in here later,” San kissed Wooyoung’s neck.
“Slut,” Wooyoung giggled.
“Proud of it,” he grinned.
San took Wooyoung to the same restaurant they’d gone to the first time.
“Ah, Mr Choi,” the host said when they arrived.
“I apologize that we’re a little late,” he said.
“Don’t worry. I’ll show you to the rest of your party,” he replied.
“Party?” San asked.
“Oh, I didn’t know it was supposed to be a surprise. I’m sorry,” he said, leading them through the restaurant. San was almost crushing Wooyoung’s hand. This could only mean one thing…
“Mom, Dad, hi,” San wasn’t hiding his surprise very well.
“San, you didn’t tell us you’d be here tonight,” his mom said.
“Um, yeah, it was kind of a last minute thing,” he replied. Wooyoung was pretty sure he was losing circulation.
“Who’s this?” His dad asked.
“I’m Wooyoung. San’s friends introduced us at his birthday party,” Wooyoung held out his hand. San’s dad shook it and his mom gave a demure nod.
“Maybe we should just go,” San said anxiously.
“We can stay. If your parents don’t mind,” Wooyoung squeezed San’s hand.
“Not at all. Please sit,” his mom said. San pulled out the chair for Wooyoung and he gracefully sat down. He didn’t end up with a client list full of closeted rich guys because he didn’t know how to handle himself in five star restaurants in front of lesser royalty. San sat next to him and couldn’t stop rubbing Wooyoung’s thigh. Wooyoung gave him a calm down look.
“So Wooyoung, what do you do?” Mr Choi asked.
“I’m a social planner,” he replied.
“What's that?” Mrs Choi asked.
“It’s like a personal assistant, but I manage the social calendars of select clients. It’s a bit of a niche market, but I enjoy it,” he replied, taking a sip of wine.
“I don’t suppose we could hire you,” she smiled.
“Unfortunately I’m fully booked, but if you ever need a recommendation, I’m sure I can help,” Wooyoung returned the smile.
“I don’t feel well. Excuse me,” San practically bolted for the bathroom. Wooyoung got up and followed him.
“I can’t believe they’re here. They’re fucking here. All I wanted was a nice dinner with you and then to be able to go back…” San started babbling.
“Baby, breathe,” Wooyoung caught him by the shoulders. “Let me handle this.”
“A social planner? That’s a hell of a way to spin it,” San said.
“If you keep letting me spin it, I’ll have them begging me to be their son in law by dessert. I don’t charge $10,000 a night because I can’t charm men away from their money. However, I can’t do it if you look like you’re 10 seconds away from heart failure for the rest of dinner. Okay?” Wooyoung told him.
“Okay,” San nodded.
“Then we’ll go back to my place and I’ll take you nice and slow. I’ll savor every inch of that perfect cock of yours. I’ll have you whining for me,” Wooyoung slid his fingers down the front of San’s pants. “I’ll have you whimpering ‘Wooyoungie, please. Please let me touch you’.” He flicked at San’s belt buckle with his thumb and weaved his belt loose. He wrapped his other arm around San’s shoulders. Wooyoung could feel San’s erection slowly growing near his fingers.
“That’s what you want, isn’t it, Sannie? You want me on top of you, slowly riding you, with you completely helpless. You remember the first time I tied you up and how hard you came. Then I sucked you off and made you come for me again. Then I got you hard again and finally let you touch me. You remember that,” Wooyoung could feel the tip of San’s dick in between his index and middle fingers. San was panting, but this time it was from trying not to come simply by listening to Wooyoung. “Do you want me to get you off, Sannie?”
“Please,” he begged, digging his fingers into Wooyoung’s back. Wooyoung steered them into a stall and deftly unzipped San’s pants with his thumb.
“You have to be quiet. We can’t attract attention,” Wooyoung’s lips barely grazed San’s ear. San whined. “Good boy.”
Wooyoung gripped the tip of San’s cock between his fingers and rested his thumb under the head. San jumped.
“You have to hold still, too,” Wooyoung whispered. San tightened his grip on Wooyoung’s back and nodded into his shoulder. Wooyoung deliberately massaged San’s dick with his thumb. He whimpered and whined into Wooyoung’s neck. “I wish I could see your pink cock right now. How pretty it is. How slick it is. How it’s shaking and just waiting for me to impale myself on it. I might be getting a little hard thinking about having it filling me up - feeling just how good you stretch me and how it’s almost too much, but not quite.” Wooyoung carefully pressed his hips against San’s thigh so he could feel Wooyoung’s own erection starting to bloom.
“Wooyoungie, please…” San’s eyes were starting to water.
“No crying, darling. Your parents will already have enough questions. I don’t want to have to explain why I made you cry,” Wooyoung pressed harder with his thumb. San jerked and grunted. “I think we’ve been in here long enough.” Wooyoung ran his thumb over the tip, dipping into the slit like he knew San loved. San came bucking against Wooyoung’s fingers and squeezing tears out of his eyes.
“That’s my good Sannie,” Wooyoung cooed as San spilled come on his fingers. San muffled his moans in Wooyoung’s neck. San finished and Wooyoung let go, wiping them down with toilet paper. Wooyoung gave him a quick check for any rogue come stains. He zipped San back in when he determined everything was satisfactory. San’s hands were shaking while he washed them.
“You still look terrible,” Wooyoung said.
“I’m trying not to,” he breathed.
“Let me handle it. Smile, nod, and let your parents pay for dinner,” Wooyoung told him. “This was my job, baby. At least before I became a kept man.”
“Okay,” San breathed.
“Thank you,” Wooyoung kissed him. “Come on.” He led his half fucked out half painfully anxious lover back to the table.
“Everything okay? We were beginning to worry,” Mrs Choi said.
“I’m fine,” San coughed. “Just fine.”
“Honestly, this is a little embarrassing, but this is only our second date. I know San’s birthday was a while ago, but we could never find a good time to meet up. We weren’t expecting to run into you tonight,” Wooyoung smiled the dazzling smile that got men into bed with him and paying for his penthouse.
“San, you never mentioned that you met someone,” Mr Choi said.
“Like he said, it’s only our second date,” San replied.
“How do you know San’s friends?” Mrs Choi asked.
“I met Yeosang a while ago. I suppose he thought San and I would be a good fit,” Wooyoung told her. It wasn’t a total lie. Yeosang had initially contacted him and paid the deposit for their joke. His other friends Yunho and Mingi had made up the difference.
“Mom, is this really…?” San started. Wooyoung squeezed his knee under the table.
“It’s fine,” he replied. Parental interrogation was old hat in his world. At least they weren’t going to call him a worthless faggot. He assumed.
“What about your family?” Mr Choi asked.
“Unfortunately my parents and I don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things. I haven’t spoken to them in years and that’s for the best. It’s a shame, really. They pushed away their only child,” Wooyoung stroked San’s knee with his index finger. He knew how to spin anything. Now he was an abandoned only child who somehow had the manners of someone raised at San’s level.
“That’s such a shame. I can’t imagine not having any contact with your child,” Mrs Choi said. Got her. Wooyoung always knew the moment he got his hooks in someone. San was also an only child.
“I’ve gotten used to it. There’s something to be said for learning how to survive on your own in the world,” he replied.
They continued through the rest of dinner, Wooyoung easily fielding all of San’s parents’ questions. He even made a show of trying to pay. By the time San and his dad left to pick up the respective cars from the valet, Wooyoung and Mrs Choi were quite comfortable with each other.
“I certainly wasn’t expecting to meet San’s date tonight, but it was very nice to meet you,” she said.
“I admit, it was a bit awkward to have a ‘meet the parents’ on the second date,” Wooyoung replied with an easy smile.
“San has always been a bit high strung,” she said.
“I noticed, but I promise to take good care of him,” Wooyoung told her.
“Thank you. He needs someone like you in his life. His friends can still get a little...wild,” Mrs Choi sighed.
“Don’t I know it,” Wooyoung’s tone didn’t give away anything. Wooyoung never gave up anything he didn’t want to give. The cars pulled up and their respective partners came to get them.
“It was a pleasure to meet you both,” Wooyoung said as they left.
“I’ll be back later,” San mumbled in their direction.
“Do you need me to drive?” Wooyoung asked when they got in the car.
“No,” San replied.
“I had your mother eating out of my hand so stop panicking,” Wooyoung told him. “And unofficial permission to date you. You should be tap dancing right now.”
“It’s just...they just...I’m scared…” San said as he put the car in gear.
“What are you afraid of? Tell your Wooyoungie,” he looked over at San.
“They’ll find out that you’re...an escort,” San finished.
“Was an escort,” Wooyoung replied. “Currently you’re paying all my bills.”
“I love you so much. I’m terrified they’ll find out the truth,” San put his hand on Wooyoung’s thigh. Wooyoung tucked a piece of hair behind San’s ear.
“Let’s go home and I’ll make you feel better. You still want that, right?” Wooyoung asked. San nodded.
“Then your Wooyoungie will strip you out of that suit, tie you to the bed, and take you until you can’t stand it anymore. You’re free to cry as much as you want this time, Sannie. We don’t have to make any excuses why tears are coming out of those beautiful brown eyes.”
“I’m trying to drive, Wooyoung,” San huffed.
“Do you want me to stop?” Wooyoung cocked his head.
A beat of silence.
“No,” the other man replied.
“Good,” Wooyoung slid his hand up almost onto San’s cock as he leaned over and undid his pants.
“What are you doing?” San asked.
“Just releasing the pressure a bit,” Wooyoung’s smile curved all the way up to his impeccably sculpted brows. He pulled his hand back away from San’s crotch. “And the best part is you don’t have to leave tonight. You can stay and I can wake you up in the middle of the night sucking your dick. In the morning I might let you fuck me into the mattress. The options are endless, Sannie. Maybe you’ll wake up and decide to slide into me while I’m asleep. Then I’ll wake up filled with your cock.”
“You...you’d let me do that?” San had started to sweat a little and his boner was threatening to expand completely out of his pants.
“You know my limits. That’s not one of them,” Wooyoung replied.
“What if I start to...you know...fuck you in your sleep?” San ventured.
“I’m a light sleeper. It wouldn’t take much to wake me up. It would be a great way to wake up, though,” Wooyoung winked at him.
“I…” San’s brain had all but stopped working. Wooyoung kept smiling.
San practically carried Wooyoung up to his apartment. The concierges had learned to look the other way a long time ago when they saw Wooyoung.
“Tie me up, baby. Please,” San breathed when they got upstairs.
“It would be my pleasure,” Wooyoung purred. He carefully pulled the silk ties out from under the mattress and San obediently lied on his back. Wooyoung swiftly tied him down and sat on his thighs. He lazily ran a finger up San’s quivering dick. Precome was dripping down the tip.
“You want your Wooyoungie that much, Sannie?” Wooyoung swirled the sticky liquid in circles around the tip.
“Yes,” San replied. Wooyoung could see his chest starting to heave. He slithered up San’s body to his mouth.
“I’m gonna make you cry, sweetheart,” he kissed his lover hard. He nipped at San’s earlobe before he sat back up and generously lubed San’s cock. He slowly lowered himself down going only a fraction of an inch at a time. San was already whining. “Did I not satisfy you earlier?”
“You did,” he replied.
“Then why do you sound so needy?” Wooyoung asked as he bottomed out.
“Need...you…” San panted.
“I knew that,” Wooyoung slid his hands up San’s bound arms. “You always need me.”
“Mmhmm,” San nodded as Wooyoung kissed him. He pressed his chest against San’s and slightly bucked his hips. San grunted. Wooyoung took San’s lower lip between his teeth and pulled slightly before he sat back up. He began slowly grinding his ass down on San’s cock.
“You want to touch me, don’t you darling?” Wooyoung braced his hands on San’s thighs, arching his back and exposing his entire chest and hardened cock.
“Yes,” San squeaked.
“How badly do you want to touch me? Enough that I should untie you?” Wooyoung looked down at him.
“N-no, wanna come l-like this,” he stuttered.
“If you’re sure,” Wooyoung ran one hand down his own torso and traced the tip of his dick with his finger. It came back wet with precome. “You want a taste?”
“Please?” San’s pupils were blown wide with desire.
“Open your mouth and stick out that talented tongue of yours,” Wooyoung instructed. San did as he was told and Wooyoung dragged his finger down the center of San’s tongue.
“Taste good?” he smirked.
“More?” San whined.
“No, my love. That’s all you get,” Wooyoung brushed his wet finger down San’s cheek. Then San’s eyes started to water. Wooyoung pulled his hand back and kept slowly working San’s dick. “Now is my baby getting desperate?”
“Uh huh,” San noised.
“How desperate?” Wooyoung prompted.
“Wanna c-come h-hard. Inside you,” the the other man breathed.
“Of course you’re going to come inside me, silly boy,” Wooyoung watched San’s hands flex against the restraints. If he really wanted to, he could get loose. They both enjoyed the illusion more, though.
“P-pound you,” he gasped.
“You want to pound me? You want to wreck me on your cock? What if I let you?” Wooyoung asked. San looked up at him. Wooyoung untied San’s wrists and then his ankles. San flipped them over and began slamming into Wooyoung. He was practically snarling while he fucked him. Wooyoung dug his nails into San’s back every time he hit his prostate. He heard a cracking sound, but wasn’t quite sure what it was. He was too focused on the cock ramming his ass.
“Fu-uck,” he grunted as he started to come all over both of them. San was still growling and bucking into him then fell on top of Wooyoung when he started coming. They were practically glued to each other when they finished.
“Uh, Woo,” San said.
“Yeah?” he replied.
“I think I broke the headboard,” San replied sheepishly. Wooyoung looked up and sure enough there was a sizable crack roughly where San’s hand had been.
“Well, so much for making love when we got back,” he laughed.
“At least you were wearing my gift,” San held up Wooyoung’s arm.
“We got it half right,” Wooyoung smiled.
“I love you, Wooyoungie,”
“I love you too, Sannie,”
#ateez hard thoughts#ateez fanfic#ateez hard hours#minors dni#ateez smut#wooyoung x San#Jung Wooyoung x Choi San#woosan#just fucking write 2k24#bonus content
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Fine I'll Bite
So I'm beyond the scope of normal anger here. Media has been on a crusade as of late to more or less make it out like child sex trafficking ISN'T happening and if it is, is only happening a TINY BIT. First of all. FUCK YOU. I'm not going to be calm here. The people CNN, MSNBC, ABC etc have had on to talk about this have been Prostasia supporters, and spokes people for fucking NAMBLA. Actual pedophiles are the people saying this movie is "over hyped" and " is fear mongering".
youtube
WHEN for all intents and purposes it's fully based on a true events, with very little changed for artistic posture. Which is why the movie was not a action adventure thriller with huge gun fights and explosions. Then we have THIS pos, and look, I don't know you but to you, fuck you.
And I'm not going to hide your name. You deserve to be looked into. "I always knew millions of people that were against child sex trafficking were fishy" Sure you did. Because it's impossible that there are not a few people donating to a movie being made that maybe aren't the best people.
Here's the kicker. Yahoo New, citing Newsweek both know what they were doing when they did this:
Yahoo News *Though the top header reads Jezebel so I'm a bit confused and concerned.
Newsweek
Now what do both of these have in common? Well when you first click on the Newsweek article it starts with the mug shot. Because regardless of the mans name, (and I don't personally know his nationality) He looks white. The media loves this. They want this. Because they know it stokes division. But what is the other thing they did? The headline. "Funder" is the word they used. And while Yahoo specifically goes out of their way to NOT mention the thousands of other crowd funders. News week at least had the decency to put it in the first paragraph. Though I am still pissed at the intentional slant here with the headline.
Now if you read the Newsweek article they don't give us much of anything. More or less not even telling us what exactly he's being charged for specifically as no information about the case exists it seems. At least not that Newsweek can verify also saying that he had direct involvement in the film somehow but then they go on to say this
So some credit again to Newsweek though they frankly don't deserve it.
My issue with both of these headlines is that it leads you into this idea that the movie got it's primary funding from this one guy. And the intent with that is to implicate the entire film as being a catfish. Why? I can tell you why. Because most of the mainstream left have sided with actual pedophiles and can't renounce them because if they do, they think the LGBT will revolt against them. Which is honestly disgusting because, let's suppose for a second, I as a moderate on the left, would believe that the LGBT would be mad if you called out pedophiles. What is the implication in that? Is it that you are saying that the LGBT ARE or are complacent in pedophilia? Because that sounds pretty fucking homophobic to me. Or is it that you don't want to risk alienating a voter base who seems to more and more align with you? At least the outspoken ones anyways.
I can't even express, as a victim of CSA myself how angry this topic makes me. THERE ARE legit avowed pedophiles trashing this movie, and ONE DONER out of 1000's does something f'd up that we have ZERO context on, and all of a sudden it's a win to prove the movie or the people as a WHOLE that support it are a problem.
I don't know how to tell you this. Hell I don't know how to force this down your throat. The movie. WAS. BASED. ON. REAL. EVENTS! And the telling of that story as well as actual news footage, shows there is a HUGE issue with child abductions and child sex trafficking. And saying that it's fear mongering, or that we shouldn't put that much worry on it REALLY makes it feel like you have something to hide.
And again. I can not even BEGIN to express how pissed off this makes me. I really can't. No one has any real reason to shit on this movie unless they have something to hide. No one has any real reason to shit on the movies message unless they have something to hide. Because the movie was based again on REAL LIFE. So either one you want people to not focus on this as a problem because you are a part of that problem. Or because you are mad that a large swath of the political middle and right have come out in support of it, but the neo liberal left has been mostly silent about it. And more the media has been propping up NAMBLA types to talk about why this movie "is just qanon fear mongering". If I could have a heart attack from sheer rage, I'd have had one having read that.
I've done my best to not lose my utter shit when dealing with the a-holes in the media trying to make this movie seem bad, and not worth paying attention to. And little by little I'm losing my patience. And I can't not be emotion driven on this because I'VE BEEN assaulted as a kid. I do my best to bury it every single fucking day and you're going to tell ME it's not that big a deal? Your going to tell ME that people supporting a movie based heavily on a true story is "Fishy". I don't support violence at all in 98%-99% of cases. For you, I'd make an exception. For the people at Yahoo(and or Jezebel) that wrote this, I'd make an exception. For the people that decided on that headline at Newsweek, I'd make an exception.
And for context, the Yahoo one is GOD AWFUL. And intentionally inflammatory. I will not link that here because they don't deserve the traffic. However I'll link the Newsweek one here so people can look at what a non story this bullshit is.
Newsweek Article
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Now That We Don't Talk (byler): 1
word count: 13,034
warnings for this chapter: mild sexual content, a few homophobic slurs
When I first moved to California, it had taken me two whole months to fully unpack my boxes. And it wasn’t really a mystery as to why; I had no desire to be there. Yes, I’ll admit that I wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of Hawkins, either, considering the events of the past few years, but when it all came down to the nitty-gritty, Hawkins was the lesser of two evils. Because Hawkins had Mike, and Lenora was… well, Mike-less. I’d never really thought about my life without Mike in it up until then, because I didn’t think I’d ever have to. But then I did have to. And it was an awful feeling.
We’d driven away from the old house, and I watched as Mike became smaller and smaller, until he was merely a stick figure in the passenger side mirror. I’d blinked my tears away and turned my gaze to the road ahead, trying to focus on the lyrics of whatever song by the Smiths that Jon was playing, but it was impossible to take my mind off of my new reality. As cliché as this sounds, I felt a piece of my heart break that day. And from the look on Mike’s face as he stood idly by, bike leaning against his hip, he was hurting just as much as I was. He’d looked lost, confused, and hurt. I could totally relate.
When we’d arrived in our new house, I’d had mixed feelings about it at first, because that’s what usually happens when you arrive in an unfamiliar environment, but then those feelings pretty much dissipated within a day. The house was bigger, for one, which was nice in a way. It had two floors, and had enough rooms in it so that El, Jon, and I didn’t have to bunk up like we’d been doing up until the move. It was in a bigger town than Hawkins was, so not everybody knew each other’s business. Which was great, considering that the Zombie Boy name hadn’t been able to tag along for the ride.
It was a lot warmer than it had been in Hawkins, and I’d grown to hate the cold over the past few years, so that was a welcome change. It was a welcome change for everyone, I think. We’d taken time during our first week in our new home to just sit together on the deck, basking in the sunshine. We learned quickly that sunscreen was a must in California, even when it wasn’t scorching hot. I’d burnt my nose on more than one occasion, and El proceeded to call me Rudolph at every possible opportunity.
El’s addition to the family was another perk of moving. El and Mom had been able to bond really well, albeit over the loss of Hopper, but also because Mom finally had a daughter. El and Jon got along well, too, which was nice. And I was cool with her. She never did anything wrong to me… besides dating Mike, of course, but that was completely out of my control. Plus, it wasn’t like he’d ever want to be with me in that way. He’d set that in stone over that one summer when he told me, “It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!”
Not even half an hour after our fight in the rain, Mike and Lucas had biked over to my house to apologize. Of course, my demolition of Castle Byers and the return of the Mind Flayer had me kind of preoccupied at that point, so nothing officially happened to resolve that situation. It was the Subject Change of the Century; we got so wrapped up in the Upside Down stuff that Mike and I put it off, then put it off some more, and then swept it under the rug altogether.
Nothing was the same after that night… at least, not on my end. What Mike said to me kind of changed my life. I’d become so dependent upon his overwhelming presence near me all the time that I kind of lost sight of myself and my own identity. In my mind, I wasn’t Will; I was Mike’s-Friend-Will. I felt worthless without him, and was always so quick to forgive him out of fear of losing him that I’d inadvertently become Passive with a capital P. And I didn’t want to be that way anymore. So I created a strictly platonic boundary between us, one that allowed the tension to dissipate, and to give myself space to grieve the idea of Mike I’d created; the one who loved me back. And then… we were back to best friends again. Just in time for me to move. At least Mike and I would still be able to talk over the phone.
I could not have been more wrong. Mike did not make a single call for the entire seven months that we were in Lenora. He didn’t send a single letter, either. Well, at least not to me. El was in correspondence with him literally every week, practically skipping into the house after trips to the mailbox with letters upon letters in her hands, beaming with excitement. I hate to admit it, but it got really annoying after a while. Then, she’d started building a shoebox shrine to him, and I was just like, what’s so special about him? He’s just Mike. But then I realized that if I were in her shoes, I’d be doing the exact same thing. Because he was Just Mike, and that was why I loved him.
After watching this go on for a few months, I kind of fell into a depression, and El was too busy swooning over all the “From, Mike”s to notice that I was falling apart. I had resigned from the idea of reaching out to Mike, because he hadn’t made any kind of effort to reach out to me. That was when I decided to finally start unpacking my boxes. Unpacking meant that the move became real. Unpacking meant that it was permanent. Unpacking meant that I’d have to officially start my new life, at a new school— high school— without Mike in it.
Each box represented a call and letter El received. My clothes were put on hangers in the closet, and my art supplies finally found a place next to my bedroom window. And all of Mike’s writing was shoved away into the darkest depths of my lowest desk drawer, never to see the light of day again. Yeah, I was being petty, but I was angry. I deserved to be angry, damnit. I was angry at Mike for abandoning me, and I was angry at myself for being delusional enough to believe Mike cared that much about our friendship.
But then, I started the painting. The Painting. I’d sworn to myself that I would stop making art that revolved around Mike. He would no longer be my muse. I’d started off the piece as a typical landscape, but I added the Thessalhydra, and then I added myself, Lucas, Dustin, and… Mike, at the front, leading the Party to victory. Screw it, I had thought to myself, everyone else is in the painting, it’d be weird not to include Mike. When I painted the red heart on his shield as a finishing touch, it hit me like a truck that I’d created one of my best paintings to date with Mike in my subconscious thoughts the whole time. He was inescapable. There was no use in ripping myself up over what I couldn’t control, so I figured I’d just give him the painting during Spring Break.
Spring Break happened, and boy (man, really; the boyish look had almost completely faded away), Mike had changed, in more ways than one. He’d shown up the airport gate nearly half a foot taller, with sharper cheekbones, longer hair, and a deeper voice, wearing the dumbest looking outfit I’d ever seen. I was so happy to see him. He hadn’t been as excited as I was, considering the timid clap on the shoulder I’d been given while I’d gone in expecting one of his amazing, tight hugs. He’d always given the best hugs. Not anymore, I’d supposed. So I tucked my rolled up painting back under my arm and took a step back, letting El and Mike have their time together as a couple. I admired him from afar, but that was all I ever did.
Mike had changed, in more ways than one; he’d gotten so much more attractive… but he’d also turned into a total asshole. I finally confronted him about his standoffish behavior at Rink-o-Mania, and he’d placed all the blame on me, not once taking responsibility for essentially forgetting that I existed, and on my birthday, no less. When I asked why El got so many letters while I got absolutely nothing, he replied that it was because she was his girlfriend. Which, yeah, obviously. But when I followed up with, “...And us?” Mike had snapped, “We’re friends. We’re. Friends.” As the two of us laid in my bed that night, it set in that Mike had taken my question in a romantic context. That made my heart flutter a little bit, but I shut myself down immediately, because I was not going down that road again.
My mood hadn’t shifted much when we’d initially arrived back in Hawkins, following the worst road trip I had ever had the displeasure of going on. I’d been trapped in a weed-infused van, sitting inches away from a wordless Mike. I’d given the painting to Mike and lied about its origins just to boost his ego. And worst of all, I endured an Emotional Michael Monologue in which he told El that he loved her multiple times. When we got out of the van, I had taken the biggest sigh of relief, because thank God the suffering was over. Oh wait, no, scratch that, because the suffering had only just begun; Vecna was the “Him,” I’d been feeling all those years, and “He,” was destroying Hawkins as we spoke.
About a month into the Vecnapocalypse (Dustin had been the one to coin that term, and I’d doubled over laughing during a very important group meeting when he’d first used it), Mike had told me that he’d finally broken up with El. I was secretly elated; the mope-fest was finally over. But when Mike revealed the reason why they’d broken up, which was the very painting that I had used as a device to try and clear the air between Mike and my sister, my back-breaking efforts seemed to be all for nothing. We had a little argument-turned-heart-to-heart about it, but we hugged it out in the end like best friends do. And things were fine. We were a team again, and that’s what mattered most.
The dynamic between Mike and I changed, though, throughout the course of the Vecnapocalypse. And I wasn’t complaining. We’d gone from being virtually radio silent to… whatever the situation was. We’d flirt, hold hands, listen to each other’s mixtapes, and partnered up together during missions. This continued on for a while until one particular moment in the Upside Down, when Mike had leaned in a bit too close, almost as if we were about to… no way. I was beyond tempted to lean in as well, caving into the deepest desire I’d ever had in my life: kissing Michael James Wheeler square on the mouth. And I almost did. However, in typical Mike fashion, ever the dramatic, he’d jumped backwards, stumbled outside, tripped over a gigantic vine, and triggered a bunch of Demobats to swarm the Upside Down version of the Wheeler house. After that shit show, I couldn’t help but be a little bit bitter towards Mike. That side-battle could have cost us everything. Vecna could have won. And on top of all that, I was tired of being led on by Mike and all of his contradictions, so I kept Mike at a physical distance from there on out. We never brought up the Almost-Kiss ever again.
Things got even stranger a few years later. On one particularly gross day in August of 1989, I’d dropped by the Wheelers’ to ask Mike if he wanted to watch a movie later that night. I headed up to his room, and the door was slightly ajar, so I lightly knocked. No response. He probably had his headphones on or something. I walked in, but he was nowhere to be seen. His notebook was lying open on his desk beside a pile of multiple ripped-out pages, with one of his signature blue LePens sitting on top of the page, the cap cast to the side. Mike had a bad habit of accidentally letting his overly-expensive pens dry out, so I figured I’d do him a favor and put it back on and save him the trouble. I took a few steps over to his desk and reached for the pen, but immediately paused in my tracks when I noticed the first two words he’d written on top of the page.
Dear Will,
I shouldn’t have read any further, because I wasn’t sure if it was Mike’s intention for me to even see it, but it was too late to go back. My eyes involuntarily scanned the page, widening more and more with every sentence.
Dear Will,
When I look into your eyes, I see the rest of my life. Poetic, I know. It kind of came out of nowhere. You know I’m not much of a poetry kind of guy, I’m more of a storyteller, but the thought came to me in a dream I had about you, and I just had to write it down in one of these letters.
Hold up, I thought. What the hell? He… had a dream about me? Why would he have a dream about… Why me? What letters? What was he talking ab— My eyes hesitantly drifted to the pile of papers beside the notebook. I gulped, my suspicions confirmed.
You’re asleep in my bed, and I’m hunched over my desk, writing this letter because I am freaking the fuck out. And not because I almost ruined our chance to defeat Vecna. Well, that too, sorry about that. But the primary reason for my current freak out session is because we almost kissed. And that’s weird.
I flipped to the next one.
Something is wrong with me. I swear to God, I didn’t mean for this to happen. But I keep staring at you for longer than I should. And I can’t look away. I haven’t been able to since the Almost Kiss™. You’ve caught me looking these past few times and I feel myself burning up like a match every time. And I’ve come to the conclusion that you, Will Byers, are my flame.
And the next one.
I’ve kind of gotten used to sleeping in the same bed as you, subconsciously cuddling through the night, and waking up tangled together. Your face is so relaxed right now, and you hum contentedly to yourself every few minutes. It’s so fucking cute. I’m glad you’re not having as many nightmares anymore. Or, at least you’re having slightly better dreams. I should go to bed soon. I don’t want you to catch me writing. But yeah. You’re adorable. And I really like you.
And the next one.
I was so caught off guard by the fact that you called me cute that I couldn’t get any words out. You turned around quickly to get your bike and hopped on, giving me a small wave as you left my driveway. And it hit me then: I love you. I am in love with you. Unabashedly, wholeheartedly, head over my fucking heels in love with you. And believe me, this has been a long time coming, and not just because you complimented me. I think I’ve loved you for a long time. I just didn’t know what it was.
And the next one.
Why does loving you feel so wrong, yet so right? It seems like for every thought I have about you, another comes to bite me in the ass. I wish I could just think about you in peace without all of the shame. But at the same time, I know it isn’t normal for me to like you, to love you, to want you. I’m usually able to stop my mind from wandering into that territory, but there’s something about you that is making it more and more difficult for me to resist those thoughts from entering my head. I think the main culprit is your shoulders. Yes, I said it. I am attracted to your shoulders. Specifically when you wear your polo shirts that are a size or two too small and hug your upper body a little too tightly. Or when you steal my leather jacket and shove it on, and it accentuates your arms, rather than making them disappear like it does to mine. You’re so attractive, it’s actually crazy. I think my brain needs to catch up to my heart. Because my heart is thriving, but my brain is a killjoy.
Another.
I turned to my dad with a wild look in my eyes (probably), and said some shit like, “Yeah, me and my boyfriend, Will Byers, had such a great time last night! We stared longingly into each others’ eyes for hours, then we cuddled, then we kissed, and then we got each other off! It was so hot, Dad. Truly. I wish you could’ve seen–” … I know what I said was a lot. I mean, it was pretty vulgar. Plus, it's never actually happened, and it never will happen. So I'm sorry about that.
Another.
I found this set of dice, though, and they were just… so you. They were a deep, translucent purple with gold stars painted around each number, all of which were also gold. They reminded me of your Will the Wise costume. I know you haven’t worn it in a long time, and that’s probably my fault. I think the last time you wore it was the day we had that fight in the garage, when I told you it wasn’t my fault you didn’t like girls. And the sick, twisted irony of that is, in reality, I’m the one out of the both of us who doesn’t like girls.
Another. Another. Another.
I think about you and those fucking gorgeous lips almost every waking moment. And the urge to follow through with my desire to kiss you always gets stronger whenever you’re in the room. Which is unfortunate, since you’re always in the room now— specifically my room, because it’s summer, so of course we’re hanging out every day. We made that stupid promise to dedicate one-on-one time to just the two of us. If only “one-on-one” was synonymous with “you-on-me.” Or “me-on-you”…? Either would work for me, honestly. But there’s something about the thought of you straddling me and leaning your entire body weight onto me that makes me weak in the knees. I’m kind of glad your mom wanted you home tonight, because there’s only so long I can refrain from lunging into your space and holding your face in between my hands and
But then, your very short swim trunks clung to your thighs, and eventually, I was able to see the full outline of your dick. Like, the whole thing. Those shorts do not leave anything to the imagination. And, imagine I did. I began to fantasize about the most lewd things: getting you off with my hand, sucking you until you came down my throat, using those thick thighs to grind myself down onto, groping your perfect ass as you flip me over onto my back, feeling the sensation of our dicks rubbing together through our clothes, feeling you on me, inside of me. That last mental image snapped me out of my thoughts, and I realized I was rock hard in my own swim trunks.
We fell asleep, together, on the couch last night, cuddling like we had during the time that you lived with me, and I felt something similar to homesickness. Nostalgia. When we woke up, I was resting my head on your chest, and I shifted my eyes upwards to look at your lips, which were slightly parted by the soundest of sleeps. I wanted to kiss you. I really, really wanted to kiss you, Will. And I want you to hold me in your arms forever, because it’s the only place I can truly call home.
I continued shuffling through the letters, counting twenty five. Plus the one in the notebook, which made a grand total of twenty six. I could barely believe what I was seeing. This had to be a kind of creative writing exercise or something. Or maybe he’d met another person named Will and… fallen deeply in love with them? Or maybe it was a cruel joke Mike was playing on me, because he’d decided that writing love letters would be a good prank to pull on his gay best friend. He had no right to do this to me. No fucking right. I ripped the last letter out of the notebook, gathered the rest of them between my sweaty hands, and headed down the two flights of stairs leading to the basement.
When I’d attempted to confront Mike about the letters, I was pinned against the wall and kissed as if it were something I should have been expecting that entire time. There was no way I could have fathomed that this was how my time in Hawkins was going to close out. I’d been looking forward to the point in my life where everything could just be normal for once; I’d been on a decent roll for the past two years. But Mike just had to go and drop the bomb on me that he wanted the two of us to spend the rest of our lives together, and that threw me for a goddamn loop, because in what world– in what universe– was Mike Wheeler loving me, Will Byers, even remotely viable? Had the Upside Down come back again? Was I trapped in a nightmarish torture chamber, with Mike as the subject of said nightmare?
I would believe it, honestly; when I mentally added up the Vecnapocalypse period of our relationship (including the Almost-Kiss), the endless mixed signals afterwards, senior prom, the letters, and the probability that Mike would have just let me leave town without admitting his stupid, dumb, impossible feelings or letting me know about all of those love letters he’d written over the past few years, it made sense. And that kiss, if he’d really meant it, made Mike’s stance on our relationship crystal fucking clear, leaving me feeling breathless and blindsided. By the time I escaped the Wheeler house that humid August evening with tears following the semi-permanent track marks that stained my face due to crying for literal years back to back, I knew for sure and certain that I couldn’t spend one more week in Hawkins, Indiana. I was done.
I had been pretty damn quick about escaping Hawkins to begin with, but the urgency to get away from Mike only accelerated my timeline. I spent the rest of the summer avoiding Mike at all costs; I’d been working at Melvald’s with my mom all summer, but started picking up extra hours under the guise of wanting to save as much money as I could for my new car– which I’d already had more than enough money for, but still. Time spent at work was time spent away from Mike. And a couple extra paychecks couldn’t hurt. Mom certainly didn’t complain; she loved having me around, and savored every moment she could with her Baby Boy before I moved to the Windy City.
I realized, as I sat on my mattress amongst heaps of boxes scattered across the floor of my dorm at the American Academy of Art, that anger seemed to fuel my unpacking process. It ignited the flame of desire for transition and change in my life. And oh, after the summer I’d just had, did I desperately need a change. This particular change, I decided, would be good for me. I was out of Hawkins, at my dream school, about to begin studying the subject that I loved most in the entire world, and Michael Wheeler wasn’t around anymore to throw me off. I grabbed a marker out of my pencil case and marked off the date on my calendar: Sunday, August 20th, 1989. This was going to be a good, drama-less, normal year. I could feel it.
“That’s everything, huh?” I turned to look towards the doorway, where my mom stood with misty eyes. She took a few steps inside, letting the door close, and I hopped off my bed and wrapped her in a tight embrace, kissing the top of her head.
“Yeah, this is it,” I said, my voice shaking a little bit with overwhelming emotion. It was bittersweet. Yes, I hated Hawkins, and was grateful to have finally escaped, but I also hated the idea of leaving my mom back in Indiana. She’d brushed my concern off, saying she wouldn’t be alone, because my stepdad would be there with her. I didn’t even like referring to Hopper as my stepdad. I’d accidentally called Hopper “Dad,” over dinner a year ago, and after an emotional encounter where James Hopper, the Hawkins Chief of Police, shed actual tears, the name kind of stuck. Hopper couldn’t make the trip up to Chicago with Mom, as he needed to help El move into her dorm at Vanderbilt University.
Mom pulled back to smile up at me. “You are going to do, and are already doing, great things in this world, Will. You deserve every opportunity you’ve been given, and more. I am so proud to be your mom.” I felt tears pricking my eyes. I’d miss my mom the most.
“I love you,” I replied, hugging her once more in order to avoid an emotional breakdown. I’d gotten close to having one at least five times throughout the day, but never did. I saw the door open out of my peripheral vision, and I lifted my head to see a guy step into the room. His hair was shaved down to a buzzcut, and a copious amount of freckles splayed themselves across his face. He casually strode right past me, without even acknowledging my existence, before tossing his duffel bag onto his bed and unzipping it. Only now did I notice the near-complete setup on the other side of the room; he’d apparently been here for a while.
I decided to talk first and introduce myself, because this guy clearly wasn’t willing to make any effort. I wanted to make a good impression, even if Buzzcut Dude didn’t.
“Hey, uh, I’m Will. Byers.”
“Aaron Heathrow,” Buzzcut Dude– Aaron– replied, turning towards me. We gained eye contact for the first time, and Aaron’s eyebrows curved into backwards S’s on his forehead. He looked me up and down and scoffed, returning to his unpacking without another word. Well. This was going to be an awkward arrangement, that was for sure.
“Honey, let’s go check out the common area!” Mom broke the silence, and I couldn’t help but glare back at her. I wanted to deal with this on my own. I loved my mom with my entire heart and would literally die for her, but this was not my idea of a fresh start. Mom gave me a knowing look and I, knowing my mother’s stubborn nature all too well, followed her out the door and down the hallway. She led us toward the armchairs in the common area and gestured for me to sit down next to her. I knew where this was going, but I obliged anyway.
“Are you sure–”
“Mom, oh my God, I’m fine–”
“He just seemed very–”
“Yeah, okay, he was rude,” I kept my voice low at the risk of people overhearing, but keeping my tone firm. “But not everyone in this world is kind. I, of all people, should know that.” I watched as my mom’s features fell from their usual anxiety-riddled state and into more of an empathetic sadness.
“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” she murmured, and for a second, I felt badly for snapping. I shook off that shame, because as unfortunate as this situation was, I knew in my gut that I was right; the world didn’t owe kindness to me. But I also knew I didn’t owe kindness to the world, either. It had taken enough from me already.
“I just want to stick this out for a little bit before jumping to conclusions,” I said, and my mom went to talk, but I continued on before she could. “I’ll switch rooms if anything does happen, I promise.” I took my mom’s hands in my own in an attempt to put her mind at ease, which would not be an easy feat, but I could at least try.
Apparently it worked, because the next thing she said to me caught me off guard: “Okay, sweetie. I’m sorry if I overstepped.” Who was this woman, and what did she do with Joyce Byers-Hopper? Hell if I knew.
“No, it’s fine,” I assured her, “I just… I want to start making my own decisions and being more independent and stuff. And I want you to know that I’ll be okay.” I placed a hand on Mom’s shoulder, knowing that this transition would be incredibly difficult for her to process. After everything that had happened with the Upside Down, I had been shocked when my mom was so encouraging regarding my pursuit of art school. I’d assumed that she would want me to stay as close to Hawkins as possible. But in the end, she had been the one to slide the American Academy of Art pamphlet across the table.
“I know you will,” Mom smiled up at me, reaching up to pat my cheek. I leaned into the affection, knowing that this would probably be my last time seeing my mom until Thanksgiving. She raised her left wrist up to her face and squinted at her watch. “I should start heading home, before it gets dark. I love you, my sweet boy.”
I couldn’t help but pull Mom in for one last hug, feeling the emotion creep back into my voice as I told my mom that I loved her so much and to call me when she got home so I’d know she was safe and sound. I walked her out of the main lobby, waving as she headed back to the visitor parking lot. When she pulled away, I turned on my heel and headed back up to my dorm room. My dorm room. Holy shit. I was in college. What even was life?
I opened the door to my room and saw Aaron laying on his bed, his basketball short-clad legs spread obnoxiously far apart in front of him as he read what looked like a book about the Reign of Ronald Reagan. Lovely. I diverted my eyes before he could catch me staring, and focused on the pile of boxes I had yet to unpack. I picked one up, set it down on the edge of my bed, and unfolded the pre-bent corners on the top to reveal my extensive sweater collection. Perfect.
I pulled out the blue sweatshirt on top, letting it fall into its full form in my hands. Oh, god. This was Mike’s sweatshirt, the one I’d stolen from him last winter. I laid it out on the mattress and reached in for the next sweater, but there weren’t any more. I peered inside the box to see the dice… that Mike had given me for my seventeenth birthday, the picture frame… that held a photo Jonathan had taken last year when Mike had the genius idea to hop his six foot three self up onto my handlebars, and the binder… that held all of Mike’s letters that he’d written to me. I’d kept everything in a shoebox under my bed back home, and I had no recollection of packing them. How did they end up making it to Chicago with me? No matter how it happened, it had, and I was stuck with all these memories of Mike. I would never throw them out, because that would most definitely keep me up at night. And I didn’t want to hide them away, because despite the sadness I felt when I looked at them, they were also accompanied by a strange sense of appreciation for what Mike and I did have: thirteen years of friendship. That’s still something, right?
I shrugged the sweatshirt on. I’m wearing it because it’s comfortable, I tried to justify myself to myself, not for any other reason. Now that that was settled, I was determined to unpack something that would make my room feel like my own. I set the dice and the picture frame on my desk and reached over to the rolled-up posters that sat on top of all my bags. I removed the tape from the edges of one of them and unrolled it to reveal the album cover of Goodbye Yellow Brick Road by Elton John. I smiled to myself and grabbed a few thumbtacks from my box labeled “School Supplies,” before standing on top of my mattress and hanging the poster on the wall. Once I was satisfied with its placement (five attempts and three concerningly lost thumbtacks later), I got off of my mattress and took a step back to admire my work, putting my hands on my hips.
“Elton John?” I heard a voice ask from behind me, and I turned around to face Aaron, whose facial expression had settled into what looked like disgust. I’d forgotten he was even there. “Jeez, man, if I knew I’d be dorming with a fag this year, I’d’ve brought my gun.” I knew it. I knew he was a homophobe, I knew it from the second he’d looked me up and down when I’d introduced myself earlier. Maybe my mom was–
“Better to shoot you with, my dear,” I replied coolly, before snapping my mouth shut and widening my eyes at the realization that I was the one who had just said that. I’d never been good at comebacks; that was more of Mike’s specialty. In high school, I was the one stuttering out the lamest retorts of all time while Mike verbally kicked our bullies’ asses right back at record speed. I envied his lack of filter sometimes.
“What did you just say?” Aaron narrowed his eyes and moved to get off his bed and meet me in the middle of our room, so we stood face to face. I could feel his breath on my face, and it smelled like stale sour cream and onion chips, but I stood my ground.
“I said,” I lowered my voice, moving closer into Aaron’s space, “I’m a pretty damn good shot, so you’d best leave me alone.” He took a few steps away from me and put his hands up in surrender. Good. When I promised to myself that things were going to be different, I meant it. I was not going to take any shit from this guy, or anyone else for that matter. Not anymore.
“Where was I?” I asked myself, flipping right back into the good mood I’d been in before. I picked up the next one and hummed to myself before hanging up my poster of The Cure’s Boys Don’t Cry.
This campus was so confusing. I had to stop and turn around on the sidewalk at least three times before I found the Convocation Hall, where I was due… right now for orientation. I pulled the unnecessarily heavy door open with all the strength I had, which was not much, but I managed to make it through and reach the sign in table for last names A-E.
“Hi! Welcome to freshman orientation!” the girl seated at the table smiled at me, and I noticed little white stars drawn in the corners of her eyes. “Can I have your last name, please?”
“Sure, it’s Byers,” I replied, “B-Y-E-R-S.”
“William okay? For your name tag.”
“Just Will’s fine.”
“Alright,” she nodded, handing me one of those cheesy Hello My Name Is stickers. “So you’re gonna be over in circle seven, head on over there and take a seat!”
“Thank…” I trailed off, having to squint so I could read the name she’d written on her tag. Kate. “Thank you, Kate!”
“You’re welcome!” she called after me, and I walked over towards the table with the giant green “7” centerpiece. I glanced down at my tag, noticing what Kate had written on my tag: Just Will. I swiveled around quickly, and watched as Kate snorted a laugh, giving me a thumbs up. She was funny. I smiled back, returning the thumbs up before approaching my group.
I had no idea what to expect; we’d obviously be going over typical orientation things like campus life, rules and regulations, and maybe a fire escape route or two. But we would also more than likely be doing icebreakers, like a “getting to know your peers” kind of deal. I hated icebreaker exercises, because not much about me was interesting. Not much that I was legally permitted to share, anyway. And even if I could, I wasn’t sure if I would want to revisit that time in my life, or if I wanted others to know about what I’d been through. I was kind of grateful that my NDAs revoked that decision for me.
I reached the only empty seat left at my table– karma for my tardiness– and sat down with my group, who was already knee-deep in conversation. The only seat left was between two girls; one of them looked like she could star in a live action anime series, and the other looked like she’d fit right in with a stoner rock band.
A guy with bleach blonde hair noticed my presence and glanced up, a smile spreading across his face. “Aye! A newcomer! Welcome! What’s your name?”
“Uh, Will,” I eloquently said.
The guy stood up, crossing the circle in order to shake my hand. “Nice to meet you, Will! I’m Pete, your group leader, and…” he looked around at everyone else, “Why don’t we all go around the circle to catch Will up?” The girl sitting next to Pete lifted a hand in greeting, starting off the Name Game.
“Hey, I’m Claire Bierker.”
“Ryan Baker.”
“Jackson Boonstra.”
“Ivy Baldwin.”
“Hannah Reid.”
“Wait–” Pete cut Hannah off, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Reid? I have you on here as ‘Beid.’”
“Yeah, um, about that… there might have been a typo on my application, something to do with my terrible handwriting.” The rest of us laughed at that, including Pete.
“Well… I think you should be fine here. Will, take your seat between Hannah and Ivy, and we can get started on our other activities.” Half an hour went by, and we’d all kind of drifted away from the initial Orientation outline that Pete had been working off of. I was kind of glad that this was the case; if I had to tell one more person about my favorite food, I was gonna riot. Beside me, I felt Ivy nudge my arm with her elbow.
“So. This is gonna be a fucking blast,” she muttered.
“Tell me about it,” I replied.
“What’s your major?”
“Painting,” I said, “You?”
“Ceramics.”
“Woah, really? That’s so cool!”
“Thanks,” she grinned. I felt Hannah lightly tap my shoulder with her fingertips, and I turned my head to give her my attention. It hit me that I hadn’t been to a social function since that last high school party the Party and I went to; I wasn’t used to this amount of attention.
“I can’t help but notice your guitar pin on your backpack,” Hannah gestured downward, where my black Jansport backpack sagged onto my shins. “Do you play?”
No. The pin was Mike’s. I might have stolen it from him.
“My… my friend does,” I hesitated, trying my best not to outwardly cringe at myself. Mike was not my friend. Mike ruined my fucking life. He wrote twenty-six letters to me, confessed his undying love for me out loud, kissed me with an urgency that haunts me every night, and then expected me to just– “I don’t play any instruments. I wish I did. But I love to listen to rock music.”
“What are your favorite bands?” Ivy asked me, and I hummed in contemplation. I leaned back in my chair, wrapping my feet around the front legs for gravitational support. That way, I could see the both of them without getting whiplash.
“The Cure, Pink Floyd, The Smiths, the Beatles… I also like Bowie and Elton John.”
“Look at you! Hannah, this is my kinda guy!” Ivy exclaimed, smacking my shoulder so hard that I almost fell backwards onto the floor. Hannah saved me, though, pulling me upright again.
“Let’s not scare him off, now,” Hannah laughed uneasily, and I shook my head.
“No, you’re not gonna scare me off. This is kind of… nice, actually,” I admitted, folding my hands together in my lap. “Would you guys wanna hang after this snooze fest is over?”
“I’m so down,” Ivy replied instantly, and Hannah agreed not even a second later.
Maybe making new friends wouldn’t be as difficult as I’d imagined.
We ordered a pizza and, in the meantime, headed up to my dorm. I unlocked the door and braced myself for Aaron’s usual disdain, but was pleasantly surprised when my roommate was nowhere to be found. I exhaled, and headed inside, holding the door open for the two girls. Hannah immediately gravitated toward my desk, where my set of dice rested atop the little purple pouch they came in.
“Oh my God, you play D&D?” she gasped.
I nodded, taking a few steps in her direction. “Yeah, I used to play more often with my friends back home. But… I kind of stopped a few years ago. They all lost interest.” ... ‘Lost interest’ was a fucking understatement.
“Well that’s depressing,” Hannah slumped down onto my comforter, haphazardly splaying her arms out on either side. “Tell you what, though,” she lifted her head to look at me, “My roommate, Kate just so happens to be the the DM of our school’s D&D Club, and she was telling me that they’re gonna be at the activities fair next week. Maybe we can check it out!”
Wait a minute… I knew that name. “By any chance was Kate at–”
“The A-E sign in table at Orientation? Yup, that’s her!” she grinned. “She’s a junior. They paired all the freshmen with upperclassmen this year for some reason. Something about mentorship? I dunno,” she sat up and shifted her gaze to Aaron’s side of the room. “Who’s your roommate? He has…” she squinted, reading the titles of the books on his desk before widening her eyes in shock. “He has an interesting taste in literature.”
I could only nod. Meanwhile, I couldn’t help but notice Ivy’s fixation on something on my desk. Maybe she was just admiring the dice, or checking out my pile of books. But as I moved closer, I realized that she was staring at none other than the picture frame. The one and only picture frame I owned. The one and only picture frame I owned that just so happened to hold that one photo of– “Who’s this attractive string bean?”– Mike.
“Oh, he’s just a friend,” I said, and Ivy shot a suspicious look in my direction.
“Looks like you two were close,” she smirked, up at me. “Really close.”
“Were. Past tense,” I repeated back to her firmly. I really didn’t want to dredge up my turbulent… whatever-ship with Mike Wheeler right now. I just wanted to focus on the Here and Now of it all.
“So, Will, are you dating anyone?” Hannah asked, changing the subject. And for that, I would be eternally grateful. Because even from hundreds of miles away, Mike Wheeler still managed to stress me out.
“No, my love life is kind of dead at the moment,” I shrugged, and Hannah’s eyes lit up.
“Maybe we can find you a cute girl!”
Woah. I hadn’t been expecting to have to come out so soon, but… there’s a time and a place for everything, and apparently, this was both the time and place, no matter how apprehensive I felt about it.
“Um, about that…” I began, but was cut off by the sound of Ivy’s palm smacking the surface of my desk.
“What did I tell you?!” she exclaimed, her wild eyes meeting Hannah’s. “I called it. I. Fucking. Called. It.” I was so confused.
“Huh? Called what?”
“You’re gay, right? You’re into guys?” Ivy asked, and I nodded hesitantly.
“See?!” she screeched suddenly. “I’ve got lesbian intuition!”
“Guess I don’t have to formally come out, then,” I chuckled.
“I’m so sorry about her,” Hannah placed a hand on my shoulder, and I shook my head. I took her hand in mine, lowering our connected hands off my shoulder and swinging them back and forth between us.
“No, it’s okay, it made things easier for me, I guess. I’m kind of glad I didn’t have to prepare a dramatic speech or anything.”
“Yeah, God, that’s always a pain,” Ivy added. “It’s so stressful running the risk of ruining a friendship or relationship just by being yourself.”
I knew that experience all too well. “Yes, it’s horrible.”
“I have a feeling we’re going to be good friends, William Byers,” Ivy smiled, taking both mine and Hannah’s free hands so we formed a triangle. “Best friends, even.”
My first class was Painting I with Dr. Miriam Horovitz, located clear on the other side of campus. I knew from the get go that it would take a while for me to figure out where the hell I was going, so I left an hour early, just in case something like this happened. And it did. So when I finally sat on a worn-down stool in front of an empty easel, it felt all the more surreal. I’d made it. To class. But also… I’d made it to art school in Chicago.
Dr. Horovitz was a short, middle-aged southern lady who had the combined fashion sense of a Flower Power protestor and a gothic, medieval witch. Mike would have loved– no. No. Not now. I needed to focus, specifically on the assignment Dr. Horov– Miriam, as she insisted upon us calling her– was explaining.
“So for your first assignment, I want y’all to paint something that brings you joy, but also inflicts immense pain. It could be a feeling, a person, a material object… it’s up to y’all where you want to take your projects. I’m just tryin’ to figure out everyone’s specific styles.”
If I were given this assignment a year prior, I would have done something related to the Upside Down. But now, as I closed my eyes, my thoughts went awry. Vines, snakes, fire… Mike. Vecna, gouged out eyes, mold… Mike. The rain fight. The Almost Kiss. The neverending flirtation. Prom. The letters. No, Will, I’m in love with you. Don’t say that, please don’t say that, you don’t mean it. Mike’s sobs echoing up the stairwell on my way out.
Well… looks like Mike is gonna be the subject of my first ever project in art school, I thought, rubbing a hand down my face with a groan. Fuck me.
I glanced at myself in the mirror, which I currently stood in front of, shirtless. I’d been insecure about my body for years. I had always been more on the skinny side, but then I got tall and skinny, my knees turned into knobs, and my voice dropped— but I kept my baby face. I was a walking contradiction. It didn’t help that my clothes just made me look worse. They were more often than not hand-me-downs from Jonathan, or purchased for a buck each at the thrift store. When I was younger, I would secretly resent my mom for not being able to afford newer, more flattering clothing. Then, I learned about the concepts of money and divorce, and that resentment never once entered my mind after that. I could never blame my mom for our circumstances, and would never dream of holding our poverty against her, but still. It was embarrassing. Especially when most of my other friends walked around looking like they’d come fresh out of the Starcourt Mall. Thankfully, when I’d moved to California, my shoulders had filled out a little bit, and I could wear most of those clothes without cringing anymore. And after the events of the Upside Down, I spent some of my government hush money on a new wardrobe.
Even then, despite the broader shoulders, newer wardrobe, and a few years’ time, there still wasn’t really much to see, physically speaking; I looked less like a young man, and more like a boy with unbalanced muscle mass and light, barely-there stubble on my jaw. To be fair, I was only five months into being eighteen, and had plenty of time for my body to mature. Working out would probably help quicken the process.
“Alright, man, you ready to go?” Aaron came out of the bathroom rather abruptly, startling me out of my thoughts. Aaron’s eyes lowered down to my torso, lingering for a few extra seconds before he said, “I’m glad you decided to come with. You definitely need it,” with a light chuckle. I felt my face burning up with self consciousness as I scrambled to my dresser, throwing on the first shirt I could get my hands on: a plain white Fruit of the Loom tee, the kind that came in a multipack. It was a bit loose on me; my mom had been a bit optimistic when she’d talked me into buying the mediums.
I could have easily turned down Aaron’s offer to go to the gym with him. Aaron’s new membership included a promotional perk which gave him the option to invite a second person for free. In turn, once the person paying for the membership had built up enough points, they could redeem said points for a private training session. Aaron, a cup that apparently overfloweth with boundless generosity, offered that guest spot up to me. Because I was poor. And skinny. And I liked Elton John. That was, like, the trifecta of male incompetence. I often thought about why Aaron insisted upon coming to the American Academy of Art if he hated gay people so much. I assumed that in order to get on Aaron’s “good” side– whatever the hell that even meant, if it even existed–, I would simply have to play the role of a straight guy, which was what I had been doing for my entire life up until a few months ago, so it wouldn’t be difficult to do.
I hastily laced my black high top Vans up, tying them a bit too tightly, but I was too intimidated by my roommate’s eyes drilling lasers into my scalp to care. I grabbed my empty drawstring bag, because what do you even bring to a gym, tossed my wallet and keys into it, and followed Aaron out the door. We headed down the hall and descended the stairwell, and I watched as his calf muscles flexed with every step.
“So. How’re you liking the school so far?” he called back to me, and I got confused for a second, because, was he talking to me? “Any interesting classes this semester?” Oh. Okay, so I wasn’t just hearing things.
“Uh… it’s good,” I replied, quickening my steps to catch up to him, “I really like my painting class. The campus is just kind of confusing to navigate.”
Aaron chuckled at that, holding the door open for me once we reached the dorm hall entryway. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. I must have gotten lost seven or eight times in my first year.”
“Oh, you’re a–”
“Junior. Architecture major.”
Huh. I’d kind of forgotten about the Junior-Freshman pairing system. And it made a lot of sense why he had decided to pursue architecture. It’s the straightest art form there is. We approached the student parking garage, and Aaron fished in his pocket for his keys.
“Oh, nice,” I said, “what made you choose to go here?”
“They have the best architecture program in the state,” he shrugged. “I’m really into postmodern stuff as well, and most schools don’t really teach that. But they do here.”
When we got into his car, I had to hold myself back from rolling my eyes into the darkest depths of my skull, because of course it was a Mercedes. Aaron checked his reflection in the rearview mirror before reaching an arm behind my seat, leaning back and looking behind him as he backed out of the parking spot. I was shocked; Aaron seemed to despise being within two feet of me, and now he had almost come into contact with my shoulder. Were we… making progress? “By the way,” Aaron said once he’d changed gears, “I’m sorry for being such a dick. I think I misjudged you.”
See, now, my kneejerk reaction had always been to cut the person who was apologizing off with a lighthearted, reassuring, “No, it’s okay.” I always felt the need to absolve people of their guilt, but now, that need was seemingly gone, because I let him continue with his apology without interjecting once. And it felt nice to not take on someone else’s burden.
“I just can’t stand all these fucking homos around here, I thought I was stuck living with one.” If he hated homos so much, then what the hell was he doing at the American Academy of Art? What was he expecting? If you hate gay people, don’t go to an exclusive art school. You’re basically asking for your own personal torture chamber, I thought. But I kept my thoughts to myself, opting to sit there in silence for the rest of the ride. The drama simply wasn’t worth it.
We arrived at the gym, and Aaron headed straight over to the treadmills. “Cardio,” he explained, and I went along with it, because if it weren’t for him, I would have no clue where to begin. We ran a mile and a half before switching gears and moving to the dumbbells. Aaron handed me a pair of 2-pounders, just to fuck with me, but then actually taught me how to lift the 5-pounders properly, without tearing muscle. We then moved over to the larger sets of weights, which Aaron loaded onto a bar and taught me how to do a proper barbell hip thrust, which I found to be a strange first exercise to teach someone. I had no idea so much effort went into the form and technique. But I found myself strangely loving it. I’d have to find time to go on my own time, so I didn’t feel so pressured as I did around Aaron.
I felt like I was dying as we stood beside the water fountain. I raised my cheap AAoA water bottle to my lips and chugged the lukewarm water as quickly as the dumbass mouthpiece would allow me, which was not much. I messed with it for a few seconds before Aaron grunted out, “Congrats on the new girlfriend, by the way.” I was so glad I hadn’t unscrewed the top yet, because I damn near dropped the bottle out of pure shock.
“I’m sorry, what?” I spluttered, and Aaron merely clapped my back with a laugh. “Don’t be shy, Byers, you’re dating Hannah fucking Reid! Own that shit!” Oh, I was going to kill her. I knew she meant well, but… really?
As soon as we got back onto campus, I sprinted to the girls’ dorms and up the stairs to Hannah’s room. I knocked, but could hear really loud music playing… was that Zeppelin IV? We’d gotten to that point in our friendship where Hannah, Ivy, and I would barge into each others’ rooms unannounced, but I apparently never got the memo that anything had changed.
“Wanna tell me why Aaron goddamn Heathrow thinks we’re–” I started, but cut myself off at the sight in front of me. Ivy and Hannah pulled away from each other– no, excuse me, Ivy moved from where she’d been straddling a borderline naked Hannah on her bed. I turned away, shielding my eyes with a screech. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I should have knocked louder– You guys are together?!”
And then it made so much more sense. If Hannah and I were “dating,” at face value, then she’d be able to be with Ivy. And– in their words, not mine– I’d be able to find a “sexy hunk” of my own someday soon. As much as we all hated the idea of a “beard,” arrangement, it was the best possible way for all of us to love who we wanted to love. That conversation ended with happy tears, hugs, and hope.
My sketch of Mike was coming together nicely. I’d been meticulously planning it out for the past week on smaller sheets of paper, and had finally transferred it to a giant canvas. I shifted my hand from side to side across the canvas to darken and further emphasize Mike’s prominent jawline. It was insane how drastic and how quickly that transformation had happened; it was so hard to believe now that Mike had ever been bullied for his looks. If only our bullies could see what Frog Face looked like now. I was convinced that if someone were to put a piece of glass within three inches of Mike’s insanely sharp bone structure, the glass would split in two. I smirked at the thought and glanced down at my pencils, which I’d lined up neatly on my right hand side in order of lightest to darkest. I was about to decide which one to use for shading his cheekbones when I heard a familiar, strong Southern drawl from behind me.
“And who is this handsome young fella?” Dr. Horovitz asked me, and I felt my body deflate a little bit. She wasn’t wrong. Mike’s attractiveness was undeniable. Using Mike as my muse for the past thirteen years definitely helped in portraying his beauty. Even then, I didn’t want to entertain that idea any longer than I had to, so I downplayed it.
“Oh, just this guy from back home,” I said, refusing to meet her eyes, which I just knew were overflowing with curiosity, given the silence that followed. “He’s not important now,” I added, just to make a point. And that was the truth. He wasn’t important. He wasn’t… as important. Not as important as how I’d made him out to be throughout my childhood, sitting high on a pedestal. Dear Will, when I look into your eyes, I see the rest of my–
“I notice there’s a bite to the way you talk about him,” my professor noted, and I turned to try and meet her gaze, but she was observing my work thus far. “If he isn’t important now, as you say, he must have been important in the past.”
Who even was this lady? She was the professor of my painting class, yet she was reading me like a therapist would. And I knew by the slight insistence laced in her voice and the way she’d parked herself next to my station that she wasn’t going away until she’d gotten some answers.
“He and I didn’t leave things on the best terms when we left for school,” I admitted, and Dr. Horovitz nodded, processing. I turned away to take a sip from my water bottle as she spoke.
“Ah, now we’re getting somewhere. So he’s an ex boyfriend, then?”
I nearly spit out my water. “God, no,” I said, feeling heat rise to my face at lightning speed. “He… uh, he’s– he was my best friend. Mike.”
“Mm. Best Friend Mike,” she crossed her arms in thought. Suddenly, her eyes snapped over to mine, the eye contact sending chills down my spine. I worried about what she would try to pry out of me next. “He broke your heart, didn’t he?”
Well, shit. She’d been able to see right through me. Maybe I wasn’t as good of a liar as I thought I was. So much for being vague.
“Yeah,” I confessed slowly, watching a smile spread across my professor’s face. Sadist! “Yeah, he did break my heart. And he really messed with my head. But even now, I still believe he’s the best thing to ever happen to me.”
“Well, you’ve covered the topic of the assignment quite well,” she told me, taking a step backwards. “I’m looking forward to seeing your progress.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Will, I told all of you on the first day of class, call me Miriam. None of that old lady business.”
“Sorry, Miriam.”
“You’re forgiven.”
I watched Miriam walk away and begin talking to one of the other students in my class about their piece, and I tried to focus back on my work. But Miriam had gotten me thinking. She had gotten me thinking about one specific day. The day where Mike finally confronted me about the painting.
“Hey, can we talk about something for a second?” Mike asked from across his basement couch. I set my pencil and sketchbook down. He had insisted upon being a model for my potential college portfolio. I didn’t even know if I’d be going to art school at all, but he was so sure that I’d get in somewhere “really fuckin’ cool.” Mike shifted his body out of the position he’d been in for the past hour, and I heard his joints crack as he stretched his long legs out onto my lap. Don’t get a boner, Byers, I thought to myself, repeating it like a mantra in my head.
“Sure,” I croaked out, my voice rough from lack of use. “Uh, are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he said, “I was talking with El yesterday, and I mentioned the commission she’d given you for the painting.” Oh shit. “You know, the one from Spring Break.”
I gulped. “Yeah?”
“It’s kind of funny, actually,” Mike continued, “because El said she had no idea what the word ‘commission’ even meant. Do you know anything about that?”
“I’m not following,” I blurted out in a sad attempt to preserve my own feelings, but Mike knew that I’d never been capable of keeping secrets from him.
“Come on, Will. I know you know what I mean.” He gave me a pointed look and pulled his legs in before scooching closer to my side of the couch, crossing his legs. Our knees touched, and I felt like I was on fire.
I knew then that I’d been caught red-handed. “I was trying to–”
“What, lie to me?” Mike cut me off as he stared down at the carpeted floor. “I thought we didn’t do that.”
“I told you what you needed to hear,” I said, and Mike crossed his arms.
“Yeah, so you lied.”
“I didn’t want to lie, Mike!”
“But you did, Will, and that’s–”
“Just listen, alright?!” I raised my voice, startling Mike into silence. I hated doing that, but it was the only way he’d listen to what I had to say. “Hear me out, okay?” Mike’s lips formed a straight, thin line as he nodded. “I just… I thought if the painting came from El, you’d feel needed again. Like, you told me you felt worthless to her, so I did what I could to try and… fix… that.” Suddenly, Mike’s face was inches from my own, and I could barely breathe. It was probably just my imagination, but I could have sworn I saw Mike’s eyes flicker down to my lips, then back up to meet mine again.
“You know,” Mike breathed, blinking slowly, “It would have meant a lot more if you’d admitted that the painting was from you.”
“Oh,” was the only word I was able to get out.
“Yeah,” Mike said, voice smooth as velvet, “You’re my person, Will.”
“Hey, Will! We– woah.” I hadn’t noticed I’d spaced out until Ivy’s voice hit my ears. I turned to see both her and Hannah gaping at my work.
“Oh! Hey!” I smiled, trying to keep the tone light, “I wasn’t expecting you guys to be–”
“Is that the guy from that photo in your room?” Hannah asked.
“Well… yes,” I admitted, “but he’s not–”
“Bullshit,” Ivy interrupted, her eyes narrowed. “Bullshit to everything you’ve said and are about to say. You’re going to tell us about this boy.”
“Fine. Can I at least wash the paint off my hands first?”
Our D&D Club had a bi-weekly movie night, where we would all go to Kate’s house in our pajamas and eat enough snacks to feed a small army. Both Kate’s and my favorite candy was Reese’s Pieces, so there was always an overabundance of them in her pantry. I shoved my hand into a bag I had rested between my legs, throwing a handful back as if they were a shot of hard liquor. The credits of CLUE were rolling, and Kate spun around from where she sat on the floor wrapped in a giant quilt. She clapped loudly to get our full, undivided attention.
“Okay, so. What are we thinking for Halloween?”
Crickets.
“We need a group costume for the party in two weeks, obviously!” Kate exclaimed, as if this were supposed to be common knowledge. I didn’t think Halloween was a thing anymore. It certainly wasn’t a thing when I was still in Hawkins. “We need one that fits a group of five.”
“We should all be Ghostbusters!” Pete said, but Ivy immediately shot that idea down.
“Too clunky. Plus, the proton packs are gonna be a bitch to make, not to mention difficult to lug around everywhere.”
“She’s right,” I found myself saying, and felt all of my friends’ eyes on me, expecting me to explain myself.
“You’ve dressed as a Ghostbuster before?”
“Yeah,” I nodded, “Back in middle school. My friends and I made proton packs out of vacuum tubes attached to these huge plastic boxes with straps.”
“That’s badass!”
“Well, yeah,” Kate shrugged nonchalantly, “But that also cancels out that option, since Will has done it already.”
“If we take into account every costume everyone has ever done, then there will be no options left,” Pete pointed out, and Kate grimaced.
“That’s fair.”
“What if we did Marvel characters?” Hannah asked, and I shook my head.
“That would put us in the same situation as the Ghostbusters, it’s too complex.”
“Hey, guys.”
“Fine, well, what if we did the Beatles?”
“There are four Beatles, Pete.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Guys.”
“What about Yoko?”
“Please don’t tell me you just suggested Yoko is the fifth Beatle, Pete.”
“Is she not???”
“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just ask that.”
“Mötley Crüe?”
“The Runaways,” Pete grinned. “Will and I could go in drag, it’d be so hot.”
Hannah’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why are we suddenly so focused on bands?”
“I don’t know, do you have any doable ideas?” Pete retorted.
“Hey assholes!” Kate snapped.
“What?!” we all shouted back.
“We should be the Mystery Gang.”
“As in Scooby Doo?” I thought out loud.
“That’s a really good idea, actually,” Pete nodded slowly. “It’s classic, people will know who we are, and they won’t perceive us as total rejects!”
“I want to be Velma,” Ivy announced.
“That makes one of us,” Hannah snorted.
“Hey! I’d be a hot Velma!”
“I won’t deny that.”
“I guess I’ll be Fred,” Pete said.
“Will has got to be Shaggy,” Kate giggled, reaching her arm out far enough to run her fingers through and mess up my hair. “I mean, his hair is perfect for it.”
“Yes, oh my God–”
“He’d be the buffest Shaggy I’ve ever seen,” Ivy said, and I whipped my head in her direction.
“Buff? What do you mean, buff?”
“Will, have you seen yourself lately?” Hannah gawked. I had no idea what she meant.
“I mean, yeah, I go to the gym pretty frequently, but like, it’s not like I’ve changed that much…”
“Will, honey,” Ivy sauntered over to where I sat, and crouched down until we were eye level. “We all know that I only have eyes for women, and even I can admit that you are smoking hot.”
“I concur,” Pete said.
“Seriously,” Kate exclaimed, “why hasn’t Will linked up with anyone yet?”
“Okay,” I tried to kill the tangent before it grew legs and ran away, “let’s not discuss my nonexistent love life–”
“Um, excuse me– it did, in fact, exist,” Hannah quipped back. “You just prioritized yourself over someone who treated you like shit.”
“Amen to that,” Ivy said, and everyone else laughed in agreement.
“So I’m gonna ask again: why hasn’t Buff Byers found himself a man yet?”
“Buff Byers,” Pete snorted, “that’s fucking brilliant.”
I put my face in my hands. “Jesus Christ.”
“Let’s be a little more realistic, because I’m pretty sure Jesus wasn’t into guys,” Hannah said, earning a sad laugh from me.
“Are you sure about that?” Ivy questioned her girlfriend, “Because his suspiciously close bond with twelve men shows us otherwise–”
“This is not the time to delve into biblical theology, baby.”
“He let Judas kiss his cheek! You cannot tell me he wasn’t at least a little bit gay.”
Okay, that was enough. “Guys, really,” I insisted, “I’m fine. I don’t need to date anyone right now.”
Pete quirked an eyebrow. “You don’t need to? Or you don’t want to?”
“Alright, everyone,” Kate called out to the rest of us, “so we’ve established that we’re going to this party as the Scooby Gang. But I have a plan in mind that’ll make this Halloween a night to remember.”
“Which is?” I asked warily. Kate couldn’t hide her devilish grin.
“Operation Get Will a Fine-Ass Man.”
I was sure that going to this off-campus Halloween party wasn’t the brightest idea I’d ever had. It wasn’t solely my idea, per se; we had decided upon our group costume weeks ago, and I was fully aware of the environment I was voluntarily entering, so I had plenty of time to back out if I wanted to. Even then, I didn’t back out, because I was obviously a new man; outgoing, social, and bold. I no longer allowed my crippling anxiety to interfere with my life. The latter statement would probably be a bit difficult to justify, though, considering the fact that I had soaked through my fluorescent, vomit-green tee shirt with sweat the second I’d walked through the door. It also didn’t help that my friends were still dead set on a singular mission for the evening: Operation Get Will a Fine-Ass Man. This was a bad idea. A really, really bad–
“Ooh, I spy with my little eye… Jose Cuervo! Come on!” Ivy exclaimed, the corners of her eyes crinkling with joy underneath her fake glasses as she grinned up at me. Oh God, here we go, I thought as I followed my friend over to the center island in the kitchen. Every square inch of counter space was occupied by some form of hard liquor. This was not my first rodeo; I’d gone to a handful of parties back in high school. I enjoyed the atmosphere, but I just wasn’t a party animal, for the lack of a better term.
“Alrighty, one for you… and two for me,” Ivy muttered as she poured her favorite vice, Jose Cuervo tequila, into three disposable red Solo-brand shot cups before handing one over to me, and I took the cup hesitantly. She then grabbed two lime wedges out of a bowl on the kitchen counter, and located a salt shaker a few seconds later. She turned to me, grabbed my free hand, rubbed the lime on it, shook some salt over the spot so it would stick, then did the same for herself. She held one of her shot cups up to mine, clinking them together as a toast.
“Fuck Mike Wheeler!” she shrieked, and I burst out laughing. While I calmed myself down, Ivy licked the salt off her hand, threw the shot back like it was water, chomped down onto the lime, and cringed at the taste. Once she’d opened her eyes and seen that I hadn’t done his shot with her, she pouted up at me.
“You’re supposed to actually do the shot, not just stand there,” she whined. I looked down at the shot, squinting at it before lifting it up, bringing it to my lips. Before I could properly throw the shot back on my own, Ivy tilted the bottom of the cup further upwards, and I felt the tequila rush down my throat much faster than anticipated. “That’s how you do a shot, Billiam,” she told me as I sputtered out a cough, followed by an indignant grunt. I wasn’t mad; I probably wouldn’t have done it without her involvement.
“For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve been so incredibly selfless. You’d do anything to make people happy. But sometimes you do it at your own expense.” Not the time, Mike.
Ivy and I had stayed a few hours late in Miriam’s classroom to finish up our pieces, so we’d all agreed to just meet at the party. When I had set my brush down for the last time earlier that afternoon, I thought to myself, “Hey, I’ve finally achieved the closure I’ve always wanted, so I should feel better.” But I didn’t feel any different; if anything, I felt even worse than before. The Heart gave me closure, but I still felt like Mike was there. So when I arrived back at my dorm to change into my costume, I glanced at the bunched-up blue sweatshirt on my bed and made a decision: It was time to pack up the Mike Box again. I put everything (the dice, the frame, the sweatshirt, and the binder) back into a box and under my bed. Out of sight, out of mind.
“Shaggy! Velma! You made it!” voices exclaimed from behind me. Hannah, Kate, and Pete approached us, dressed as Daphne, Scooby, and Fred, respectively. A smile quickly made its way across my face as I collided with my friends in a group hug. Once they all pulled back, the gossip was instantly afoot.
“So, any luck yet?” Ivy asked her girlfriend, who shook her head.
“Not yet, we just got here a little while ago.”
“I’ve seen a few potential candidates who I think he’d get along with–” Kate began, but Pete interrupted with an expression of pure confusion.
“Sorry, what’s going on?”
“Operation Get Will a Fine-Ass Man! Come on, Pete, get with the program!” Kate clapped her hands in the middle of the circle, and the rest of them laughed while I rolled my eyes. They were being absolutely ridiculous. I didn’t need to get any man, let alone a fine-ass one. I was perfectly fine with being alone. Totally content, and not at all depressed.
The song that had been playing faded out, and a familiar bouncy synth introduction to the next song vibrated up from the floor and sent shockwaves through my entire nervous system. Kate demanded immediately that the group should dance, and the rest of the Scooby Gang agreed, save for me. I didn’t do well on dance floors, because my claustrophobia often got the best of me. So I stood against the wall, watching as my friends disappeared into the crowd. The beat picked up, and I sighed deeply, crossing my arms over my chest. This was the radio cut. If Mike were there, he probably would have complained for hours afterwards.
“Will. I’m being serious! If you know about the existence of the 12” version of Smalltown Boy and still opt to listen to the radio cut, you’re committing a crime against both me and Bronski Beat. I said what I said. No further questions.”
I hated that I couldn’t tell Mike how, for once, I actually agreed with him. He wasn’t here with me, and it was all my fault.
I checked my watch– 8:26pm. We’d only been there for less than half an hour, and I already wanted to go home. There were enough people packed in the house for it to be considered a fire hazard, and my friends were nowhere to be found. So much for Operation Get Will a Fine-Ass Man. Besides, I was dressed as Shaggy from fucking Scooby Doo, there was no way any guy would want me while looking like a disheveled cartoon character. I decided to go outside to get some fresh air, and maybe smoke a cigarette… or five, but right when I began to move, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see Kate and Ivy, standing on either side of a guy with spiky black hair and chunky black liner under his eyes. The only defining elements of his vampire costume were the fake blood dripping from the corners of his painted red lips and the cape draped over his shoulders.
“Will, Matt. Matt, Will. Speak,” Ivy rushed out, pushing us together by our backs. I watched, stunned, as my friends pushed their way through the crowd, giggling the entire time. I then shifted my gaze to meet eyes with… the very hot guy who stood before me.
Matt.
next part
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#byler#byler fanfic#byler fic#byler tumblr#mike wheeler#will byers#will x mike#mike x will#stranger things#stranger things fic#ntwdt#ntwdt1
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Interesting 🤔 I watched the show and till the end I thought the story was about a man who fell into his dark temptation. As for the shipping, I think it's one sided , in canon I always saw Will rejecting Hannibal and didn't he throw them off the cliff. After the show I came to Tumblr and wow here things are very different, especially how u guys see the cliff thing I thought it was a sad move for Will to decide to end his life . But now I see GIFs and people make it romantic, well forgive me if I am wrong but I am open to new interpretations.
If they were a het couple we wouldn't be having this conversation but, here it is:
I'm assuming then that you interpret Will saying he defines his past and present as before Hannibal and after Hannibal, saying they're conjoined, they can't survive separation, he wanted to run away with him, etc. as lies and manipulations? I guess that's the only way you'd see this and still think it was one sided.
Yes, it is about him giving in to his "dark" side, but mostly it is about self acceptance, it's also a metaphor for anything divergent that suffers from societal judgement and alienation (they even give a little hint at that in the first episode mentioning Hannibal's article).
Will could've killed Hannibal many times, but didn't. He didn't need him to "give in to his darker side". Hannibal did many things to him. We are quick to cut off a friend who hurt us but not so easy to do the same when we're in love.
About the Cliff, Will threw them off because of how good it felt, he knew it would've been impossible to go back to "normal" after that. The fandom never made that romantic, not sure where you got that from. We know it was tragic and sad, although they didn't die, Bryan Fuller, the creator, already confirmed that, but we don't think it's romantic, we understand why Will did it and it is independent from his romantic feelings. Gifs exist for every scene, doesn't mean we think it's romantic, just means we think it's interesting.
This show is packed with parallels and metaphors, Will's feelings are shown through subtle narrative elements, specially because of censorship (still very real but even worse at the time the show was on). If you pay attention to that, you can see it is not one sided. The whole plot happens BECAUSE Will and Hannibal are in love but cannot handle that love and it triggers their behavior and actions.
The actors also confirmed they are in love and so it's also in their interpretation which is far deeper than our own since they have access to the characters inner motives.
I understand not liking them but not seeing it as canon I think it's actually a reflection of society. It just proves the whole point. Believe me, if they were a man and a woman there is absolutely no way of seeing it as non romantic. The eye gazes, the intensity of scenes, the things they say to each other, the intimacy. You may deny that but unfortunately it is very real. You may not be homophobic, but it is internalized, it's heteronormativity, we all do it at some point, because it's how we were programmed to perceive things.
I don't think it's up to me to "give you" a new interpretation. Maybe think about these things and rewatch with more attention to detail? You're not really obligated to have a new interpretation, you can see it however you do, it's a reflection of your inner self and perspectives and we may disagree but I don't think there's anything wrong with seeing it as you do, it's just simply not canon, but that's not a crime? Art is meant to be interpreted, it serve as a mirror.
#ask the lamb#difficult topics#hannigram#nbc hannibal#hannibal#will graham#murder husbands#hugh dancy#hannibal lecter#mads mikkelsen
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January Update
We look forward to a new year full of male-to-male body swaps, possessions, transformations, and other means of taking someone’s body for control! Despite a busy schedule, I am pleased to say that the last month of 2023 has been productive, with 26 shorts, stories, and chapter series. Stories on Discord now total 243 unique and compelling tales! As stated before, most of last month’s stories have a general theme based on the winning vote from my star subscribers. And it’s “Blessed/Cursed Gifts,” a story theme perfect for the holidays. Read these tales in the following shorts and stories.
✅ – SFW | 🔞 – NSFW | 🔒 – Subscriber Access
•·················•·················•
🔒🔞 Give me Back my Body
"Fucker! Give me back my body!" Stan shouted when he saw his stolen body showering in the public gym. He didn't want to hurt his body, but damn! Seeing that asshole jerking off with his stolen cock made Stan see nothing but red.
🔒🔞 Replica
I couldn't contain my excitement as I unwrapped my gift — a bodysuit replica of my cousin, Lee.
🔒🔞 Torturing My Brother Wasn’t the Gift
I wished to torture my brother better and to be the only son. It seemed like an impossible dream, but the crone said she could do just that.
🔒🔞 Android Virus Outbreak
Reports are coming in that android companions around Korea have been installed with personality modifying virus that turns them into sex-crazed and rabid maniacs. Take refuge in your rooms and barricade your doors. And hope to the almighty that there's a Police officer that could help you.
🔒🔞 Holiday gift
What better gift to his boyfriend than ropes, a gag, and his homophobic uncle?
🔒🔞 It’s the damn Bodysuit’s Fault
My boyfriend doesn’t want to have sex with me anymore, and it’s that damn bodysuit’s fault!
🔒🔞 The VR Headset
I received a VR headset that lets me play a game that's a little too realistic.
✅ Apologies for Missing the Holiday [Tranformation]
🔒🔞 The Enchanted Camera [Bodysuit]
Other Stories
🔒🔞 The Demon Inside part 2
Commissioned by Valagon37
When the slivers of libido faded in his last set of hosts, the incubi, Valagon Raug, uses his demonic magick and charms to seduce a new batch of hosts in the modern world. With the promise of fame, money, and boundless pleasures, Alex, Chase, William, and Jared were lured easily into Valagon's world.
🔒🔞 Chapter IV: Left Alone
Val leaves Alex and Chase for a demons-only event, leaving Alex and Chase competing on who Val loves more.
🔒🔞 Chapter V: William
While in the event, Valagon’s desires prey on the husk of his rival demon. He’d hit two birds with one stone by making that handsome hunk his and pissing off his long-time rival.
🔒🔞 Chapter VI: Jared
Val’s old cult comes with fresh meat to satisfy their lord’s unbound desires.
🔒🔞 Chapter VII: The Four Husks
The daily shenanigans between Valagon’s four husks.
🔒🔞 Prison Payback
Prisons have their rules. This prison has them, but the most important was you don’t fuck with Jason and his crew. The new inmate would soon learn why this was so.
🔒🔞 The Fun Barely Started
All I wanted was to play an old video game from my youth. I didn't expect to be transported into the game and played by a man with sick and perverted fantasies.
🔒🔞 Bro Stole My Body
I’ve always been a piece of shit to my younger brother. I mean well. I wanted him to be a football player like our dad and uncles. But that interest in nerdy ass book clubs makes him the black sheep of this family. If only I knew the measures he would take after pushing him so hard, then I would have pushed him at all.
✅ If You Were a Little Smaller
"I told you, didn't I? If you were a little smaller, there won't be a day without my cock inside your asshole." Rhys said while he was in my body.
✅ Why I Named my Pecs “Jacob & Josh”
It irks me when people put names on their muscles. Still... I gave my pecs names. It may seem hypocritical, but I have a story to justify why I named them "Jacob & Josh."
Other Shorts
✅ Skinny Dipping [Possession]
🔞 The Eyes Aren’t the Window to the Soul [Possession]
🔒🔞 Still Not Used to this Cock [Body Swap]
🔒🔞 No Return [Body Swap]
🔒🔞 Never Slept Naked [Possession]
🔒🔞 Comparison [Possession]
🔒🔞 Toning it Down [Possession]
🔒🔞 Stressed Out [Body Swap]
•·················•·················•
Head to my Discord and read these shorts and stories and 240+ other stories! If you want to access the NSFW stories, you can subscribe through my Ko-Fi and gain access to every story I’ve written. You can find the relevant links below.
We’ll welcome the new year by ditching story themes in favor of story scenarios. Based on the votes from Star Subscribers, the winning scenario is “My Friend Will Pilot Your Body.” See the main character befriend an invasive entity who will possess someone they know, be it a relative, a friend, a rival, or anybody. If you want to partake in the theme for February, join my discord and become a Star Subscriber🌟!
I thank my readers and subscribers for their continued support!
Access the Discord Server here >>> Link
How to Subscribe >>> Link
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for OSKAR: 👪 & for KENZIE: 👪
OSKAR because Kenzie is RIPing rn
I'ma do all of them too LOL
Nina: I think there's a part of Oskar that's actually quite intimidated by his sister. You know how brothers never really see their sister as anything but their sister? There's an element of that at play, but Nina is a force to be reckoned with and it's almost impossible to view her as anything but impressive. So, Oskar struggles knowing where to really compartmentalize his emotions for her. On the surface, she exudes this widely capable and driven personality and she balances it seemingly perfectly with her social life. I think it brings out feelings of inadequacy for Oskar, which he's definitely not used to, and makes him feel a little uncomfortable that he's spent his entire life so wrapped up in purely business whereas Nina can trot in and make it all look easy and still have time for herself. I also play around with elements of misogyny in their relationship, where Oskar often tries to belittle her accomplishments and her social life as if trying to place this carrot in front of her for her to chase. Whereas, if Nina and Felix were swapped over, he'd not be doing the same thing. Having said ALL of that, Oskar loves her and does respect her in his own way. He's deeply protective and we have a few HCs of when Nina first came out, Oskar caused a very uncomfortable atmosphere towards people who were having a homophobic conversation. However, he struggles showing genuine care and often turns these situations into blame for Nina not being discrete enough. Sad and I hate him HAHA.
Felix: MY BOYS. Oskar and Felix have, hands down, the most complex brother dynamic I have ever written. Felix literally represents everything Oskar is against, and at times he can't even stand the sight of him. Felix goes against how Oskar has been raised and all he can see is his brother's wasted potential. He admires Felix's quick wit, even his sense of humor, and he's not even shy about singing praises for Felix's intelligence. But it all wraps up in this intense, raw, hostility all stemming from the fact that Oskar can't stand to see his brother suffering. What I've loved to explore so far is how Felix also forces Oskar to reflect on their parents and family life, which is something he rarely does unless the brothers are together. Because Felix's behavior forces him to question how did something get this bad? It also forces Oskar to address, from his perspective, that his parents were more lenient with Felix but in turn makes him realize how harsh they were with him. It's all very messy and I literally get so emotional LOL
Filippa: We haven't written them yet but I'm excited to. Filippa was only nine years old when Oskar was born, so there's this definite overlap where she's an aunt but Oskar doesn't view her the way most nephews would view their aunt. Especially as she was then off and studying for art and doing what was deemed "impractical" and a "disappointment", in many ways, the way Filippa was viewed and talked about definitely played a part in why Oskar kept his head down and knew where to focus his energy to. Also, I'm excited to explore how he's actually become rather cruel towards her especially when he starts "connecting dots" that her influence could play a part in Felix's behavior. Because obviously, his brain will do that.
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See, the thing is:
It's literally IMPOSSIBLE for me to ignore the Caleb/Evelyn parallels. Because no other characters fit them besides Luz and Hunter. The romantic undertones don't just cease to exist because Luz is dating someone else lmao.
I don't know what this story was like writing wise before animation production. I know alot had to be cut and moved around, like that one significant change in Clouds Over the Horizon where Amity has the Titan Blood Key.
But it's just, soooo fucking strange to have those details about Luz being into prince boys even AFTER Season 1 episode 2. It could have just stopped there - I don't have to be reminded that she's into this type of boy. But then we get the drawing of her kissing Beta Hunter in Sense and Insensitivity" AND THEN we get the fakeout kiss moment with the type of boy she likes in Hunting Palismen???
Hunter is literally an angsty warrior prince who's older than her, has a tragic yet compelling backstory, has/had an animal sidekick, has the potential to lose an eye (i take that scar on Flapjacks eye as foreshadowing because Hunter now has his eye color), is on a quest of vengeance with Luz.
"You're probably thinking too much about it those details don't ma--"
HAH. No
Listen... Listen to me
First of all, how could you even say the details don't matter in storytelling? Especially in this show where you know - we were given Calebs and Philip's backstory entirely in the background of Hollow Mind? We already knew what happened even BEFORE Thanks to Them.
ALSO, the drawing from Sense in Insensitivity did not need to exist and that prince did not NEED to look like an earlier concept of Hunter. He could have looked like ANYTHING, the prince didn't HAVE to look like Hunter - but he does. And it was in a script LUZ WROTE - it's not just some random background detail. Like I'm not taking out the fucking microscope to look at something miniscule in the background. It's right there - it's right in view on the script the snake demon is holding. And THAT'S what's suspicious about this detail. They also DID NOT need to bring back their fake out kiss moment from the proof of concept video. They could have just made her wake him up normally. They could have just left the whole "Luz likes princes" thing in the Second episode of the series. But they didn't - and THEN they drop the Caleb/Evelyn parallels?? LIKE?? HELLO??
It's like... you really expect me, someone who likes to analyze stories and see how all the details fit together, to not assume they were initially going to go for a love triangle or possible Lunter endgame?? ESPECIALLY with the Caleb/Evelyn parallel storyline? Nah, dude that aint ever going to happen - you can't convince me they didn't have a love triangle or Lunter endgame planned.
Also AmWillow has a much more compelling set-up than Lumity does. I don't get how people don't like it - it's literally that trope social media loves where the LGBT couple beat the shit out of their homophobic parents for forbidding their love. And Amity was obviously going to have a killer redemption...
God, maybe that's why they had to remove the blush in Hunting Palismen? Because they wouldn't have had time to do the love triangle? Just like they had to change the story beat for Clouds Over The Horizon? Because why add those extra details about Luz being into princes then suddenly remove Hunter blushing in Hunting Palismen?
This entire thing is SUS.
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His Loss
CW: homophobic language (s1 Steve has deep-rooted internalized homophobia fr), referenced/implied child abuse
Ship: Jonathan x Billy, aka byergrove/flashwaves
Word Count: 1,149
For @billyhargrovebingo
The disgust on Steve's face shocks Billy. Hits him right in his bruised chest. He should be familiar with that look. Neil's worn it since Billy could walk.
He never thought it'd taint Steve's pretty face.
"I don't know what I did to give you the impression that I was a queer," Steve sneers.
Billy opens his mouth. Nothing comes out.
Don't cry, don't cry. This isn't real, this is a nightmare.
"And even if I was…" Steve shudders at the thought, before continuing, "you'd never be my first choice."
"Unless you're joking. You must be."
I wish I was.
Steve whistles loudly. "Holy shit. You're a fucking fa-"
Billy socks him in the mouth before he can finish that ugly sentence. The taller boy blinks in shock, holding his jaw.
Why the fuck does he look so confused? Don't tell me he doesn't know why I hit him.
"You hit like a bitch," Steve spits out, blood and saliva landing on Billy's sneakers.
Billy pushes him on his ass and starts kicking him. Little by little, Steve Harrington disappears, until all Billy sees is Neil. He kicks harder, eyes stinging.
"Are you fucking crying? Jesus Christ, dude. You really fell for me, huh. You're a dumb ass."
"Shut UP!"
"You could beat me into a goddamn coma, but I bet your heart is in a million pieces, right? I broke your fairy heart, didn't I? You could never hurt me like I'm hurting you right now. Isn't that right?"
"STOP! STOP IT!"
"You're insane. You're a fucking basket case! Did you honestly think there was a chance in hell that we would be together?"
As if he's just been slapped, Billy stumbles backwards, his back hitting the wall.
"You said it yourself; I've got girls on their hands and knees for me. Why would I want you?"
Suddenly he's seven years old again, watching his mother speed out of the driveway, her blue car growing smaller and smaller until it's a speck of dust.
Dad was right. No one wants me.
Every dream he's had of a soft, safe life with Harrington is gone. He knew they were just dreams, but still… they were real to him. He finally grew a pair and confessed, only for Harrington to cut off his balls and crush his aching heart.
Jonathan's not usually the type to care about gossip, but Tommy's voice is impossible to ignore. At least, that's what he tells himself as he marches toward the boy, glaring daggers at him.
"You said something about Billy. Do you know where he is?"
"You're messing up my collar!"
Jonathan yanks him closer with a strength neither expects from him. "Where is he?"
"Out in his car. Heard from Steve that he completely lost his marbles. Beat him pretty bad."
Doesn't Billy have a huge crush on Steve? Why would he-
Oh. Fuck.
Jonathan speed-walks out of Mr. Jacobs' classroom, breaking out into a jog as soon as he's out in the parking lot.
Billy is slumped over the wheel. He's not moving. Jonathan's not even sure if he's breathing.
Fuck.
"Billy? It's Jon. Could you give me a sign that you're alive? Just so I know not to break your window?"
Billy slowly raises his head like a scarlet turtle poking out of its shell. "You better fucking not."
Jonathan leans on the car, finally catching his breath. "You're alive."
"Unfortunately. You don't sound disappointed about that. Me being alive."
"Why would I be disappointed?"
Billy shrugs. "Everyone else is."
"You're wrong."
"Oh, yeah? Name one person who-"
"Me. Who else is going to be my study buddy?"
"Nancy."
Jonathan sighs, resting his forehead on the window. "I heard about what happened."
"Of course you did. So what're you still doing here? Aren't you afraid I'm gonna turn you gay?"
"It's a bit too late for that."
"Thought my ears were playing tricks or something."
"That asshole doesn't deserve even a second of your time, you know," Jonathan says.
"I know it was stupid, but I-I really thought he liked me," Billy sobs.
"It's not stupid! He's the idiot. He could've had someone really great, and he fucked it up."
" "Someone really great"? Now I know you're not talking about me."
"And what if I am? You aren't stupid for wanting to be loved."
"Nobody loves me," Billy whispers, sniffling.
"I do. I love you."
Billy stops crying and unlocks the door. He hides his face in his hands, peeking up at Jonathan.
"D-don't say stuff you don't mean. Don't give me h-hope just so you can-"
"I've never meant anything more. You don't have to respond. It's okay. I just… wanted you to know that. I may not be what you want, but you are loved."
"B-but Nancy, I thought?"
"She's dating Barb."
"Oh. Can I… ask you a question?"
"Sure, bub."
"What do you like about me?"
"How much time do you have?"
"I'm serious."
"Me too. We'd be here all day until we're both old and grey."
"Sure." Even though his face is still hidden, Jonathan is sure he just rolled his eyes.
"Thing one: your heart."
"My heart? Jesus Christ."
"You have a really big heart. I remember when you gave a stray dog the last of your cheeseburger."
"Wasn't that your burger, though?"
"I'm retracting my confession," Jonathan deadpans.
"Then you do have some sense of self-preservation. Good."
"Quit it."
"Quit what?"
"Acting like you're a bomb set to go off any minute."
"I could've killed Harrington."
"Who cares? Everyone knows he can't win a fight to save his life. I would've done worse. I'm pretty sure I have, actually. So don't fall into your self-loathing period."
"You would, huh?"
"If I'd been there and heard whatever he said to you, I would have killed him."
"Then you'd be arrested," Billy points out.
"You're such a boy scout."
"Hmph. How about Thing 2?"
"You owe me a burger." Jonathan gets into the passenger seat, knowing full well he's not letting Billy pay a cent.
"Thing 2: your mouth."
"That's kinda slutty, dude."
"Would you let me finish?"
"You should know by now that I can't take compliments." He starts the Camaro up, adding somberly, "Not like I get many. Unless it's about my ass."
"It is a nice ass."
"Do you wanna walk to the diner?"
"You've always got something to say."
Billy glares at him, but then his expression softens once he sees Jonathan's fond smile.
"No one's making you listen to me."
"That's right." Jon whips his hair back and says raspily, "Here I am."
"I don't sound like that!"
I hope I can help you forget Steve. Maybe it'll be easier for you to move on if he were out of the picture. Anything for you. "You didn't deny the hair thing."
"Shut up."
Little by little, they're falling back into place. Your loss, Harrington.
#damn#i really put my boy billy through it#billy hargrove#byergrove#jonathan byers#billy x jonathan#my writing#jonathan x billy#jonathan byers x billy hargrove#billy hargrove x jonathan byers#im back#i think 😭
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Hils Watches Enchanté - Ep 9
I really hope this isn't going to be like Plus & Minus where the story reached a natural ending point and then there was two episodes of totally unnecessary drama just to pad it out. I'm glad, for now at least, they can actually kiss when they start play fighting.
Of course they would make being boyfriends into a silly contest too. God, they are idiots and I love them so much.
What exactly does he thing French people are like? Does he think the entire population of France is just making out all the time?
I really hope the next two episodes are just Theo and Akk being nauseatingly in love while everyone around them slowly figures out they are dating. These two both seem to be okay with it, and we know Theo's mum isn't homophobic given she was encouraging him to date Saifa. Just Theo's dad who is the unknown entity...
Weirdly the Thai drama I'm watching with a friend also had one of the leads burn their finger and the other take care of them in the episode we watched yesterday
I looked up the recipe after Theo kept talking about it and it sounds really good! I might have a go at making it some time.
Oh, are we going to resolve stuff with the other boys. Does it make me a bad person if I say I really don't care about them?
Okay, as much as I don't care, I don't like the message that if you finally push back against your abusive mother that she'll keel over and you'll feel guilty for the rest of your life.
I thought for a second there was going to be drama about Akk not watching to do PDA at school.
But he took one look at Theo's sad face and said fuck it. I think if there's going to be drama I don't think it's going to be from them. They are clearly stupidly in love
I swear to god if you fuck with their relationship because you blame Theo for what happened to your mother I will end you (which I realise is impossible because he's a fictional character but you know what I mean)
FFS! They legit made it look like he was about to stab Theo or something but no he just wanted to say 'I've learned my lesson and I'm going to take care of my mother now'. Which I'm not sure should have been what he took away from all this but at least he's not evil?
Okay, is the rest of it going to be about the ones who lied making peace with themselves and with Theo? I'm on board with that. I want Natee to finally realise that Tan is in love with him.
I really want to know if stuff like this actually exists in Thai universities or if it's just a BL thing
Oh no please don't let them argue over money and school gossip. Come on they've been friends for literally years. When has Akk ever shown any interest in Theo's money or his dad's position?
Look at this poor sad boy :(
Theo just wants to feed his boyfriend but Akk is now worried about what everyone is saying. I don't like it!
For a second I thought Akk had decided to get over it and shower Theo with rose petals but nope a bucket nearly landed on Theo's head 😂 Luckily Akk, as always, was there to save him.
OMG PARENTAL DIVORCE PLOT TWIST???
Saifa is a good boy. I'm sorry I said I didn't like you.
I mean surely she must have realised that by inviting one of Theo's friends to her studio that he was going to find out about all this.
OH NO AKK KNEW ABOUT THE PARENTAL DIVORCE! Okay, so maybe they WILL be the source of the drama after all.
I mean, yes, everyone around Theo has lied to him and I totally understand him being upset. BUT HE ALSO INVENTED A WHOLE SECRET ADMIRER JUST TO GET AKK TO CONFESS HIS FEELINGS. Everyone in this is a liar.
Oh, good, Jimmy is here to make things better. Or possibly make them worse.
Yep, worse.
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Something that has bothered me for a long time is that when there is an issue within the G/t space, it can go from 0 to 100 real quick. I cannot call this group a community, because you need communication for it to be one. That’s not what I’m seeing here. It’s just vague call out post about something that they do not like. And he,y here’s the thing, we all have our issues; our likes and dislikes, and I believe you don’t have to apologize for that.
I have one gripe however, is that people assume if the themes are horrendous, then the story in itself will be just as bad by the end of it—and the person who wrote it is a horrible person. FIRST of all, If you knew what the theme was about going in and you refuse to read it, then don't read it. But to just yell that this is insensitive to everyone else is kinda bonkers, don’t your think? You cannot speak on behalf of every PoC in this space. You can be upset if it triggers you, but that’s what the block button is for.
Just because the setting of the world view tinies as less than, doesn’t mean that this has to be the case in THIS story or that it ends that way. Overcoming what feels like the impossible is the best way to describe the situation. Going through a ton of shit and it working out in the end. Here's the thing, I'm not a fan of the pet trope, but that's only the surface of it all. Does this mean I like the trope? NO! But if the story is engaging, and the protagonist is able to overcome the impossible, then is the story really all about tinies being pets??
“If a character that wholly participate in this system that oppresses people. They. Are. Bad.”
This is like saying Zuko should never be forgiven or accepted by the gaang because he’s from the fire nation, and that Aang or Katara should have tossed him in jail and throw away the key. Without context, Zuko is a piece of shit, especially in the beginning. But once you see his side, see what he goes through, his struggles, his dreams. You EMPATHIZE with him. THAT'S storytelling.
And yes, We DO live in a fucked up climate, and coming here to tumblr is sort of an escape from it. I’m here to escape it as well; I LOVE fluff, but life isn’t filled with fluff in the real world. And stories do NOT have to be all fluff for it to be good.
Look, at the end of the day, G/t has always been about power dynamic in a literal scale. Two, very different sized folks, on semi-equal ground. Some people love this, some people don’t give a shit. It’s not my business to scream “why the absolute fuck are you writing this!” to any person who writes stories or tropes that I'm not a fan of.
I have my own issues when it comes to pedophiles and that shit should never be accepted, especially in this space. I block that shit if I see it. And why the hell are you comparing people who write intense storytelling to a piece-of-shit TERF author? Are you serious right now? How fucking scummy of you to compare them to homophobes. Jesus Christ. You don’t even know who they are to begin with! Have you tried having a conversation?!
Unfollow me, block me, whatever you want. Wa7iyat Allah, if anyone assume I’m a white person and I should stay out of it, you’re gonna be disappointed! Ya Habibi, I’m Palestinian! I don’t need to explain how people see us, now do I?
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I don't have energy to make a good intro, just going to get to the point.
Guys systemcringe is back up
Time for me to do a review on it because I can. I'll do my best to stick to the post that are tagged as "fake DID/OSDD".
1. The post is, in a nutshell, introjects means someone is faking. You know the drill; cringe subreddit thinks things they think are weird are inherently signs of someone faking.
2. People can't have introjects from newer media anymore, either. The OP also was being pretty transphobic and homophobic , commenting that "Of course he must be gay!" With an arrow pointing to the transgender flag on their intro.
(sidenote from Adam: the OP did make the point that people aren't very conscious of screen readers. We ourselves are guilty of this on occasion and are trying our best to learn. Still, it's common with a lot of system intros to have a lot of focus on aesthetic rather than how easy it is to read, especially for people who use screen readers. So. Uh. Yeah just wanted to note my incoherent thoughts.)
3. Typing quirks exist. Especially weird ones. That doesn't prove they're faking.
4. A Polyfragmented DID system knows they're a Polyfragmented DID system at 15. Not Impossible. Oh, and, they use the label systemfluid. The OP uses that as a reason they're fake, likely without any knowledge of what the term actually is. The term systemfluid refers to a system who considers themselves genderfluid due to being, of course, a system. That doesn't prove they're fake in any way.
5. They're really posting a system's information. I know Adam's said this on other FDC-related posts, but that's just plain creepy, especially since the OP said that the system is their ex-friend.
6. Oh, similar to the last one. They're posting a system's pluralkit this time. Of an ex-friend. Not even the same OP as last time! And they made 3 posts of just their PK! What the hell.
7. Systems exist on Wattpad. That... Means they're fake.
Okay the posts are getting repetitive. I'll just say this now, I'm skipping a lot of posts because they're repeating the same things from earlier. This one was another one about fictives, though.
Also, though we're skipping the posts that aren't tagged as faking, almost every post on SystemCringe suggests that the posted are faking. We might do another post about the ones we skipped if this does well at all. Okay, back to the actual posts!
8. A system exists in a system discord. Definitely cringe to exist! Yep.
9. System has fakeclaim-able alters. It's free real estate.
10. A person accuses a system of "copying their trauma" to "be more credible". What the fuck.
11. Systems are silly! So cringe and fake of them to have fun and have moments that aren't sheer misery!
12: people realize they're systems. And talk about it. Wow.
13. People have a lot of alters. Man. So fake. /s
14. Systems can roleplay with each other. This isn't impossible, especially with systems far into recovery or with high communication.
15. New alters can act really weird. Like they might need help if they're introjects and such. Who knew that complex disorders can present very differently based on who has them.
Well, I'm gonna end this here. We've been low on energy recently, but I felt like I should be more active than I am. So, whoever's reading this, have a good day, night, whatever you want to call it.
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Whoa, thanks for your response. Well I hope you have more peaceful and NORMAL days ahead. 😂 Always fun chatting with you! ❤️
Of course! And thank you for your interest. It's nice to talk about this kind of stuff with other people, helps get rid of the anxiety. And on that note, here's a more in dept answer:
Lula was first elected president in 2002 and stayed in power until 2010, when he helped elect his successor, Dilma Rousseff. Which means that I literally grew up under the Workers' Party administration. A (center) leftist administration. An administration responsible for taking Brazil out of the Hunger Map.
"If at the end of my term, every Brazilian have the opportunity of having breakfast, lunch and dinner, I will have accomplished my life's mission." Lula, 2003, first speech as Brazil's president.
Lula's term, specifically, turned the country into the 6th biggest economy of the world. For the first time ever a metallurgical with no higher education was elected president and for the first time ever poor and black people were going to college, were going to airports, were hopeful.
"Brazilians are taken by a feeling of well-being, buying more cars, traveling more, acquiring their own houses and accomplishing dreamns until then unattainable. WE'VE NEVER BEEN HAPPIER." 2010, ISTOÉ Magazine.
I might have been a child then, but I remember it well. The concern for the environment, the very strong anti-guns policies, the inclusion of LGBT people in a society that constantly marginalized them and of Brazil as an international leader... That's the progressive environment I grew up in.
So when Bolsonaro was elected in 2018, it was quite a shock to me. Not because I didn't see his victory coming – I did and that's why I spent months dealing with the worst anxiety crisis I've ever had in my entire life – but because for the first time I was really seeing the racist, misogynistic, homophobic face of my country, something the Workers' Party administration had shielded me from in their attempt to erradicate it.
But there's no unseeing that now. It turned out the Brazil I naively thought was so gentle and accepting, so proud of its diversity, so full of love, happiness and love despite the difficulties, was... decidedly not so. The country I loved so much didn't love me and my people back. It was heartbreaking.
When Dilma Rousseff got wrongfully impeached, we knew dark times were ahead of us just by looking at who were the people happy about it and who was not.
The last six years have been hell, screaming in the dark as we watched with our hands tied a right winged and then a fascist government destroy in record time what we took more than a decade to build, like Sisyphus watching that damn boulder roll down the hill again: we're as good as starting from the scratch.
But honestly? There's something so inherently optimistic about the concept of starting over. It might sound exhausting but it's also a chance to try again and do better, to learn from past mistakes and then leave them behind.
When I look at Bolsonaro's ministers...
And at the ministers Lula has just nominated...
It's impossible not to get excited about the screaming difference. Especially concerning the Ministry of the Environment which now went from this:
To Marina Silva, one of the greatest, international acclaimed names regarding environment preservation and the fight against climate change:
Don't worry, I'm not under the impression that those guys are perfect heroes who are here to save us. Lula has made mistakes in the past. So did Dilma. But nothing – absolutely nothing – takes away from the fact that the Workers' Party indisputably has given Brazil its best years: economically, progressively, culturally.
Will they do it again? It's hard to say, especially with the terrible congress we elected. But I don't expect them to, because the next four years have got to be all about rebuilding. New mistakes will probably be made and that's inevitable but at least we're on the right path now.
You came to my inbox before and asked my what I was expecting from the new government. I replied with a joke about how after tasting four years of literal fascism all I can ask for is some well deserved normalcy and my point still stands.
But most of all, I expect to look forward to what the future holds for us after so many years of feeling hopeless. I want to feel again that we can dream. That things can change and that they do matter. I want my country to be what I once thought we were.
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I used to think that I needed to find something to like about every client to make the work bearable. I prided myself on it, in fact. Being able to find that thing, however small, that made a person likeable despite spending hours with them at their worst.
I'm pretty sure I had a crisis the first time I had a client who was just, no matter how long I spent with them or what angle I looked at them from, awful. Cruel. Horrible enough to drive everyone who had ever tried to care for them away. But it was an important crisis.
I don't think you can do this work long term without burning out if you try to do it from a place of liking people, relating to them, or even loving humanity. For me it has to come from a place of believing that everyone, no matter how horrible, deserves basic respect, dignity, and comfort as a function of being human.
I spend my days with guys whose mothers have restraining orders against them, who beat their partners and children, who get so high it's impossible to communicate and then lie about it, who wax poetic about the murders and terrorist attacks they wish they could pull off, who have spent entire lifetimes systematically harming themselves and pretty much everyone else within reach. Often, my clients are racist, sexist, homophobic, anti immigrant, ableist despite their own disabilities, and derail entire sessions to express views that are upsetting at best and advocate for the elimination of people like me and pretty much everyone I love at worst.
They're still people. We still gain nothing from locking them up and throwing away the key. Punishment for punishment's sake moves us no closer to a kind and just world. That is the thing that makes the work worthwhile, but also what makes it bearable.
Amd the fact is I still like most of my clients. Most people have redeeming qualities, even when they scream and threaten and lash out in every way they can. But some of them don't, and I've spent weeks of my life pouring all of my energy into and crying in frustration about getting care for a client who hated every part of my identity and would have wished a hate crime on me if he knew. Because it's my fucking job, and because nobody deserves to die alone and miserable.
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Agskfneoahakfbeiaksh
Is talking about ships okay? (Not anything nsfw since, yk, still a minor💔 I just really love that picture😍 100% won't send any like it again if that makes you uncomfy tho) I can ramble about Skz ships and dynamics right?
❪⠀🪐.⠀the beggining of it all⠀𓏔⠀minsung⠀❫
NOT UNCOMFORTABLE AT ALL!! in fact, one of my fav ships. very very complex, it's true, but amazing as well. THAT PIC THO (i add this gif to our delulu thoughts) but we got to keep this for minors. so just a little drabble oneshot (i got too carried away) under the cut hehe · no proof read, possible mistakes, described anxiety and make out sessions⠀★⠀2.1k words
minho and jisung met when they were very young. i like to think of jisung as the chaotic bisexual goofy guy he is, but i actually have the feeling that he genuinely thought he was straight until he met minho. and minho was a very introverted teen who knew he was gay (is not the first time he talks about having a crush on one of his male classmates) but he kept a low profile about it ーjust remember that south korea is kind of homophobic and he was about to debut with a bunch of guys.
but hey, jisung was totally convinced that what he felt for his new group mate was just a very deep friendship (... riight), even when they started talking and they started holding hands, and they started cuddling, and they… they started, mhm, to do things all friends do. the fact that minho had to hide the enormous fat crush he had on jisung was a big deal, specially because said boy reciprocated all the moves minho made. so it was quite confusing. but when they did debuted, and everyone grew accustomed to each other, it only became painfully obvious that they were not as straight as they thought. and not only them ーtry to live with a group of very very handsome man and not start to think about what you really are attracted to.
the thing is that even if minho was slowly falling in love with his platonic soulmate, jisung was convinced he only liked girls. to the point were our favourite cat-like dancer just surrendered and accepted that it was impossible for him to end up with jisung. he stopped fighting for him, although he couldn’t help the jealousy every time han flirted with his other members, or the sting of hurt he felt when he purposely watched those edits stay made and he knew, he just knew, that he could never be jisung’s boyfriend. he was unwilling to admit it, but it was killing him inside.
meanwhile, said rapper was just dense. of course. totally oblivious to his older group member suffering. he already had enough with all those recurrent thoughts that so often crossed his mind, making him frown in confusion at the new reality that would open up if he gave the question too much thought. it was making him go insane. because- those feelings… but why would he think that? was he… was he really hinting he could be…? nah. that was a rabbit hole. when he started going through that train of thought he just stopped and tried to distract himself.
yongbok was tired. and sad. he was nosy by nature, but also an overly sensitive angel, so seeing his friends struggle like that distressed him. the freckled boy was openly bisexual with them, and his group mates had never judged him, even if at first his insecurities had made him think that because of their culture they would treat him differently. but yongbok was a sunshine, and therefore in his train of thought the fact that jisung and minho ended up together was as obvious as the fact that you needed to breathe in order to live. the problem was that he knew that both of them would shut down at the mere mention of the subject.
he needed someone from outside their inner circle, but who could be trusted and discreet. and that was were you came in. the girl that knew hyunjin since childhood and just stucked around, the one that made them feel more at ease in stressful periods, who made sure to remind them to eat, drink and rest when they were too caught up in their jobs, you ーtheir confidant. they would listen to you. damn, with the power you had with your words, you would only have to talk to jisung and then everything would run smoothly. so he asked you the favour, and you couldn’t resist him, hence you complied.
you had a very deep conversation with your quokka-like friend about his feelings, the both of you alone in your apartment for his comfort, and he himself ended up understanding what everyone saw so evident, why it should not matter in the slightest which gender he's attracted to, and dismissing his oblivious behaviour with a soft laugh. he still waited for a few days ーuntil his weekly gathering with minhoー to speak his mind. and even when the moment came, he was nearly-a-panic-attack kind of nervous. the dancer was always patient with him, but when minho when he proposed breathing exercises to calm down a little, it was his own breath that caught in his throat as jisung, out of eagerness, closed the distance between their lips in a quick peck that turned into a gentle make out session when minho cupped his cheeks.
if you meant minsung thoughts as only the both of them, let’s say that after a very intense and sincere talk they went from a beautiful friendship to the cute couple known only by those to whom they show the privacy of their personal life. now, if you want to add you and talk about minsung x reader thoughts, let me tell you that when felix asked you to talk to them, you were on the brink of refusal. how could you help him achieve this not so crazy plan when you had a crush on them? how could you have a crush on them? if you stopped to think about it, it made a lot more sense for them to be together. like, only minho and jisung. the two of them. in a relationship. it was breaking your heart, but you could only be happy for them. they deserved it, the delighted ending.
you spent some time away from the kpop group, trying to busy yourself with college, or your job. you even went on a trip (alone) so new experiences helped you dealing with your unrequited love, and although it did ease your mind for a while, as soon as you were back in seoul everything came back to you as a wave. a wave that lived in your nightmares, of course. hyunjin wanted to hang out with you, as well as felix, and ji asked why you were so distant. you felt you'd made things worse, and it made you feel awful. but you couldn't explain the real reasons behind your disappearance, right?
minho was pissed off. with you, with him, with how things went out. It was fucked up, because you lit helped him to get into a relationship with his crush. he was supposed to be happy, hell, he was jisung's boyfriend!! and he was exhilarated, don't get me wrong, but he had this little sting in the bottom of his heart that didn't let him enjoy all the happiness. and it hurted more when he thought of you. he loved you, you were one of his best friends, he supposed he could even see you as the type of girl he would date if he liked girls, because you were just amazing! but he only liked boys. right?
jisung was still confused. when he talked with you, he noticed how nervous you were and it put him on edge. but as you talked, a lot of things made sense in his head. it was like you just shared with him the secret to happiness! and he thought that it would be enough, when he ran to clear things with minho, and came out of the closet, he thought that it was it. but it sure wasn't cause even if he was lighter than before, he still carried some kind of burden that didn't let him sleep well. did being in a relationship with a boy made him gay? when he had been sure the person he had a crush on was you? he could be bisexual, yeah, or pansexual or whatever the name was at the time. but he craved to kiss you the same way he did with minho. did that made him a cheater? was he starting a relationship over lies? he was being a horrible boyfriend, right?
yongbok was getting restless over the weird tension in the dorm when you agreed to attend their classic movie night after almost months of absence. and he seemed to be the only one who was noticing how jisung fidgeted around you, how tense minho would get when you were near him, or how you held your breath when either of them gave you a brief glance. only he wasn't the only one. the three of you were painfully aware of what was going on, too many unanswered questions on your minds, and too many answers you weren't ready to hear. at least until in the middle of a movie you couldn't care less about minho stopped her gaze on his boyfriend, only to catch him watching you with craving eyes. and for once, he didn't feel the rage of jealousy running under his skin. for once, all he could think about was how good you two would look next to each other, cuddling, you cocooned in his chest, jisung stealing kisses here and there, the three of you nestled in his bed.
was it… was it weird? that longing? the suddenly urge to be near you, to have both jisung and you between his arms? at this point, he didn’t care anymore about what did that make him ーhe was not gay, if he felt this way about youー but how would you react. it was obvious that jisung had somewhat this same yearn, to get to figure out how did your kisses taste like, how was it to be able to hold you, to call you theirs… you were his main concern. would you think they were nuts? just by asking you if you felt the same, would you look at them as if they were crazy? had he lost his mind?
when the film ended, past midnight, minho didn’t know what to think anymore. he could hear his friends talk about how good the storyline had been, all the plot twists, even your excited squeaks when chan mentioned some specific detail you’d loved about the main character. he didn’t know a single word about the movie, he didn't even noticed you staying over on the couch, his footsteps leading him to jisung's room, his mind too busy with the dilemmas you had just created for him without realising it. until the door closed behind him, and he felt his boyfriend's strong arms pinning him against the wall, one hand gripping his shirt, the other resting on the surface next to his head and his lips crashing with need over minho's. his panting muffled against jisung's whimpering mouth, as if he had been holding back his desire for too long and now he couldn't breathe just feeling that he finally gotten what he had wanted so badly.
"you think about yn too, don't you, hyung?" he heard him whisper, his voice dripping with heat, minho's hand finding its place tangled in his boyfriend's hair.
he had been ready to answer, to give him the satisfaction of letting him know that yes, he could not get you out of his mind, that you had changed the way he thought of his sexuality, that he needed you in his life, and having you as a friend was no longer enough. but then he heard the noise, the soft thud against the floor, a hoodie and your phone at your feet and you at the door of the room, looking at them with wide eyes and your heart beating too quickly. you didn’t know what to think, and they didn’t know how to react. so during a few minutes the three of you stayed like that, deers paralyzed with fear in front of the bright lights of a car, until you took what you had dropped and ran away, your only aim to get out of the house as soon as possible.
your pulse was racing, your clouded mind preventing you from thinking clearly, as you packed the few things you had placed on the couch into your backpack, repeating a single phrase in your head, like a mantra, the only thing to keep in mind as everything you had assumed to be true collapsed, "this is a mistake, this is a mistake, this is a mistake”. yongbok had been wrong, it hadn't been a good idea to show up again after so long, you were confusing your friends, you were destroying a relationship, you should stay away, you, you, you... you were terrified. what were you so afraid of? you hurried down the hallway, hearing anxious whispers from jisung's room, and slammed the door shut, getting into the elevator in a blur. you looked at your reflection in the mirror after pressing the button for the ground floor, and you couldn't help but repeat, in a whisper, "what are you so afraid of?".
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It’s been a while since I posted. Life has been - how should I put it? Bullshit to say the least. When I moved in with her, I didn’t know how much of a bumpy road I was about to take. The devastating impact of my reality right now is hard to fathom and it’s all at the hands of a parent.
This woman is a mental health/addictions worker and has had jobs in the community to help the homeless. This title is supposed to instil confidence and trust in society. But the actions of this self proclaimed community member could not be further from what her job title entails.
Picture this, you finally found the girl you want to spend forever with. She’s the one. Sure, things don’t start out like they should; you didn’t wait long enough and just jumped right in because you missed so much time. How much time you ask? 9 years. You would think after so many years of watching your daughter be miserable with the people she was dating, that you’d be happy for her. However, in this woman’s mind, you’ve stolen the control she has over her daughter. According to this woman, you’ve brainwashed her child and turned them against her. But all you’ve done is try to help out so that things didn’t turn into what they’ve become.
From the beginning I have been the homewrecking whore, the cunt that took a “good” man out of her daughter’s life. This “good” man abused his girlfriend’s animals. Not only did he choke them, but hit them with brooms as well. All of which this woman knew about. All of it. If you brought that up in conversation though, she would turn around and make you like the crazy one. It didn’t happen in her eyes. I do have a theory though; one word, homophobic.
Your daughter was only good enough when she was dating a man and that man could never do any wrong. Besides cheat on her, try to physically harm her, and once again, abuse animals; but that’s okay, turn your back on her when she needs you the most. Fine, get angry at who your daughter has become from spending so much time defending herself because you couldn’t be fucking bothered. Sure, bring a coke head into a home with your two daughters and watch as he attempts to kill you and your youngest; the one you keep on a golden pedestal. Go ahead and gaslight your oldest, your first fucking child and make her believe she’s crazy or isn’t heard. But for god sake, don’t sit there and insist that she owes you an apology because you’re a fucking shit, dead beat, narcissistic parent.
9 years ago, I showed up to a school that I had never been to before and knew from that moment on, the blonde, blue eyed, big mouth was the one. I brought her flowers, a dozen roses to be exact - just to ask her on a date. She had never had anything like this before and from then on, nobody was good enough for either of us. She’s finally happy and yet, it’s not good enough. You “knew” me as a woman. However, I had no idea what you looked like or even who the fuck you were. So how could you have known me back then? I was introduced to you as trans masc non binary individual who went by he/him/his. But sure, go ahead and misgender me every chance you get.
I lost my job and decided to take on caring for your daughter full time so that your life was a little easier. Even this isn’t good enough for you. To try and gain more control, you start charging me more than what social assistance deems as appropriate living costs. Making it next to impossible for me to provide for myself, but you complain about not having any money and that you have to pay for food for everyone. So I guess we won’t talk about the number of fucking Amazon packages that show up at the door.
You even moved 2 shady people into our basement so that you could pay even less fucking rent. During the 2 months they were here, you allowed the husband to say that I was cheating on her. Talking to his daughter. And you told him to just go with it. She came home, believing that I spent the time that she was at a festival talking to a person I don’t even know. Talking on the phone at 3 am, when I was talking to our animals. And she didn’t believe me. Because you had her so convinced that I was cheating. Even after me repeatedly saying I don’t know her. I didn’t even know these people until they moved in. I flushed my engagement ring from my former fiancée. Because that is how committed I am to this woman that I plan on marrying.
You know, I sat there and have said absolutely nothing. Sometimes taking your side, which impacted my relationship. Why did I say nothing you may ask? Because nothing anybody says will be the truth. We end up looking crazy and you deny that you said it. A month ago, your sister and mother were up. They know how you treat your daughter. Even your own blood relatives don’t want to be around you and continue to walk on glass around you to avoid an argument. One of the nights, you thought it was a brilliant idea, to look your first born in the eye and say “maybe I should have abused you, then you’d have more respect for me.” I have never seen someone’s heart shatter so hard as I did that night. Everyone looked at you, shocked that a mother would say that to her own child. But my absolutely incredible girlfriend, called you the fuck out. “That was fucking ignorant.” Instead of saying, you’re right I’m sorry that wasn’t okay…”, you decided to once again flabbergast all of us in the room by saying it was a joke. THATS NOT A FUCKING JOKE.
That brings me to recent events that have completely cemented in concrete that once we leave, you will have NO contact with your daughter. Once her brain surgery is over. You’re done. Sue me. Fucking go for it but I am protecting her, myself, our animals and our future children. There is no chance in hell that I will allow my future wife to sign her entire life away to a woman whose only purpose for this document is to gain complete control over her daughter.
You tried to once again blame us for a high water bill. You told us that we can’t do our laundry at home anymore because apparently we do too much laundry. I’m sorry, what the actual fuck? You don’t even do your laundry, we do. We do everyone’s laundry. We had a full laundry basket for 2-3 weeks because every time we wanted to, someone’s fucking laundry was left and had to be re-washed several times. Once again, she called you out. You tried to say that you have every right to say how you feel in your house. “You are the only one who is allowed to.” Funny, that’s the same thing your husband said not even a week and a half ago. Of course, this caused a fucking blow up. And once again, you asked me if my family could give me money. No, the answer is no. I have asked and it’s not going to happen. I brought up that I am looking into a job as we speak, because I fucking am. A job that will allow me to work from home, flexible hours and allow me to be in a hotel room with your selfish, ignorant ass for a month while I watch the love of my life possibly forget who I am from having not 1 but 2 brain surgeries. She doesn’t need all of your extra bullshit added on to her. But it wasn’t good enough for you. You brought up the POA and signing her over to DSO because all of this stress isn’t helping, according to your therapist. Dear god, where did you find them? Wish? Anyway, you ask me if I have anything to say. I don’t even hesitate to say do not bring me into this, I don’t want to argue. You keep pushing and pushing and yelling at her until she finally had enough and brought up your little abuse comment. You lie. “I never said that”. “Yes you did, ask aunt Stacy” she replied to you. Then you continue to once again ask me, did I say that? And then continue to argue you didn’t. I finally spoke up, “yes you did, then you told her it was a joke”.
This woman, then proceeds to tell me to shut the fuck as I’m doing the dishes for everyone because you’re all too fucking lazy to do your own. Not to mention I did them the night before, cleaned the counter and yet again we wake up to the house fucking trashed. More dishes. You continue to lie and say that you didn’t all while calling your sister and asking “did I say, maybe if I beat her…”. I hear the hesitation in your sister’s voice. She doesn’t even want to be involved. Then she says no. My heart broke. Now you made both of us look crazy. Your youngest sits on her phone and says absolutely fucking nothing. I can’t even remember what was said after, but I do remember walking away and going downstairs to find her sitting on the stairs. Why? Because she knew what was about to happen. “Get the fuck out of my house you fucking cunt.” I reply back that I was working on it, continuing to go downstairs. Surprise, surprise, you didn’t like reaction much. I get to our bedroom door and hear the pounding footsteps across the floor as you scream and throw a baby gate down the stairs. My girlfriend not flinching, staring directly at me, not budging because she knows you. The next minute I hear, get the fuck out of my fucking house you stupid, inbred fucking cunt. Oh sorry, you said inbreed. You’re from a town where people fuck their cousins and get them pregnant. Who’s inbred? Then I hear the voice that I was waiting for. Your youngest who is fucking trauma bonded to you scream, don’t talk to my fucking mother like that you stupid fucking cunt.
I’ve had enough, I once again say I’ll be out as soon as I fucking can, turn around and slam the fucking door. I walk into our room to find my dog shaking and terrified on the couch. Your stomping started it and your screaming has now caused him to almost have a panic attack. I don’t know what’s worse, your lack of intelligence of what an inbred person is or the fact that yet again, a mental health/addictions worker was proving that her field is not the field she should be in. Frankly, if anyone heard the way you speak to your family members - they would fire you on the spot. You don’t like being wrong and you definitely don’t like when I don’t take your side. Fuck that. You said you should have abused your daughter. I don’t fucking stand for that.
Time and time again I am reminded that I’m destroying a family, ruining a relationship between a mother and her daughters, and turning her oldest against her. Daughters who, need I remind you, are struggling because their mental health is slowly dwindling. I would jump to help both of them. Making sure that they are okay and helping them whenever they need it. I stayed home, while you and my girlfriend went away overnight for an appointment that I should have been at, just to make sure that your youngest wasn’t alone. I don’t know if you even notice that she has anxiety due to someone trying to FUCKING KILL HER OVER A BAG OF COKE. Your husband was at work. She would be alone with all of our animals. Not just mine and your daughter’s but yours as well. So I stayed home.
I think that you see me getting close to the one person who never really argue back. But when she does, she’s an ungrateful bitch. She bends over backwards to do shit for you. Pick up smokes, get you coffee. But it’s not just her. It’s me too. I am your personal fucking errand boy so you don’t have to get off your ass. You constantly talk about your daughter’s weight, but fail to see how it makes them feel. Even though my girlfriend doesn’t give a fuck about her weight and loved herself, you tell her she needs to lose weight.
I am so disgusted by this 40 something year old woman, that sometimes I can’t find words. The level of manipulation that you spew out of your mouth is unbelievable. But I am manipulative? Fuck no. I don’t control my girlfriend. She has full control over herself. But I control her?. Do you even know that if you call and the call is missed or drops, your youngest turns her sound on while saying if I don’t pick up, she’ll yell at me. Or that a month or so ago, you came home to no dinner made for you and started screaming at not only your husband but your “golden child” too. Your oldest, was having her first panic attack. She didn’t know what it was. She was pacing, voice shaking and eyes wide because she had no idea what was going on. I had to calm her down by reminding her that if she goes upstairs to protect her sister, there will be an escalated fight and you’ll probably end up throwing us out again on the street. I asked her the next day what she felt. Her words? I couldn’t breathe. I said baby, you had a panic attack. And who was the one who calmed her down and possibly stopped her from knocking you the fuck out? Me. Because I’ll be damned if you fucking charge her for doing that after you initiated a fight.
I am exhausted, mentally drained and fighting the urge to hurt myself because of how small you make everyone around you feel. But you’re a mental health/addictions worker who can treat everyone around her like absolute garbage and is only happy when things go your way. Now you want to talk? Because you feel bad for me? Even though I’M an asshole. Oh fuck no. You started the argument and now I have to apologize for your shitty, ignorant behaviour you fucking fraud. Go ahead and continue to scam workplaces, while you claim that you need mental health leave or fucking medical leave. But I’m the fucking failure.
I can tell you one thing, when I pack up what little belongings I have and my animals, your daughter will be following me out that fucking door. Because I’m not just packing up my belongings, I’m packing up hers as well and we are taking our little family, consisting of a dog, two cats (one of which you had your youngest inform me that you let out of the house, my cat), and two rabbits. We will be putting our shit into a U-haul, driven by my sisters and if need be, I’ll have a fucking cop stand there while I pack up the truck. Why? Because you will not stop us from having a future together. It’s already been decided. Ride or die we will be together, whether you like it or not. If we can make it through all of this mental torture, we can make it through anything.
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